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diff --git a/old/9320-h.htm.2021-01-26 b/old/9320-h.htm.2021-01-26 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8f7a22f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/9320-h.htm.2021-01-26 @@ -0,0 +1,3560 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <title> + A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL, COMPLETE + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 2em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 20%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 25%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + pre { font-family: Times; font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + <h1> + A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL + </h1> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +Project Gutenberg's A Doctor of the Old School, Complete, by Ian Maclaren + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Doctor of the Old School, Complete + +Author: Ian Maclaren + +Release Date: November 1, 2006 [EBook #9320] +Last Updated: March 1, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL, *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Widger and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + + + + + +</pre> + + + <div class="mynote"> + <i><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/files/9320/old/orig9320-h/main.htm"> + LINK TO THE ORIGINAL HTML FILE: This Ebook Has Been Reformatted For Better + Appearance In Mobile Viewers Such As Kindles And Others. The Original + Format, Which The Editor Believes Has A More Attractive Appearance For + Laptops And Other Computers, May Be Viewed By Clicking On This Box.</a></i> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL + </h1> + <h2> + By Ian Maclaren + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkFrontispiece" id="linkFrontispiece"></a> <a + href="images/Frontispiece.png">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="Frontispiece.jpg (87K)" src="images/Frontispiece.jpg" + width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <a href="images/001.png">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="001.jpg (155K)" src="images/001.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + ILLUSTRATIONS + </h2> + <p> + [A click on the face of any illustration<br /> will enlarge it to full + size.]<br /><br /> <a href="#linkFrontispiece">DR. MacLURE</a><br /> <br /> <a + href="#link012">BOOK I. A GENERAL PRACTITIONER</a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link014">Sandy Stewart “Napped” Stones</a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link019">The Gudewife is Keepin' up a Ding-Dong</a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link020">His House—little more than a cottage</a><br /><br /> + <a href="#link023">Whirling Past in a Cloud of Dust</a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link025">Will He Never Come?</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link028">The + Verra Look o' Him wes Victory</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link029">Weeping by + Her Man's Bedside</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link031">Men Get the Victoria + Cross in Other Fields</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link036">Hopps' Laddie Ate + Grosarts</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link041">There werna Mair than Four at + Nicht</a><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a href="#link044">BOOK II. THROUGH THE + FLOOD</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link046">A' doot Yir Gaein' tae Lose Her, + Tammas</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link049">The Bonniest, Snoddest, Kindliest + Lass in the Glen</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link050">The Winter Night was + Falling Fast</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link051">Comin' tae Meet Me in the + Gloamin?</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link056">It's oot o' the Question, Jess, + sae Hurry up</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link058">It's a Fell Chairge for a + Short Day's Work</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link061">The East had Come to + Meet the West</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link064">MacLure Explained that it + would be an Eventful Journey</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link066">They Passed + through the Shallow Water without Mishap</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link069">A + Heap of Speechless Misery by the Kitchen Fire</a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link071">Ma ain Dear Man</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link074">I'm Proud + to have Met You</a><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a href="#link078">BOOK III. A + FIGHT WITH DEATH</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link080">Gave Way Utterly</a><br /><br /> + <a href="#link082">Fillin' His Lungs for Five and Thirty Year wi' Strong + Drumtochty Air</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link085">Bell Leant Over the Bed</a><br /><br /> + <a href="#link088">A Large Tub</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link091">The + Lighted Window in Saunder's Cottage</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link094">A + Clenched Fist Resting on the Bed</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link097">The + Doctor was Attempting the Highland Fling</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link098">Sleepin' + on the Top o' Her Bed</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link100">A' Prayed Last + Nicht</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link102">I've a Cold in My Head To-night</a><br /><br /> + <a href="#link106">Jess Bolted without Delay</a><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a + href="#link110">BOOK IV. THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY</a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link112">Comin' in Frae Glen Urtach</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link115">Drumsheugh + was Full of Tact</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link118">Told Drumsheugh that the + Doctor was not Able to Rise</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link121">With the Old + Warm Grip</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link124">Drumsheugh Looked Wistfully</a><br /><br /> + <a href="#link128">Wud Gie Her a Bite o' Grass</a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link130">Ma Mither's Bible</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link134">It's a + Coorse Nicht, Jess</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link137">She's Carryin' a Licht + in Her Hand</a><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a href="#link141">BOOK V. THE + MOURNING OF THE GLEN</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link143">The Tochty Ran with + Black, Swollen Stream</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link145">Toiled Across the + Glen</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link147">There was Nae Use Trying tae Dig Oot + the Front Door</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link148">Ane of Them Gied Ower the + Head in a Drift</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link151">Two Men in Plaids were + Descending the Hill</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link153">Jined Hands and Cam + ower Fine</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link156">Twa Horses, Ane afore the Ither</a><br /><br /> + <a href="#link159">He had Left His Overcoat, and was in Black</a><br /><br /> + <a href="#link164">Death after All was Victor</a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link165">She Began to Neigh</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link168">They + had Set to Work</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link169">Standing at the Door</a><br /><br /> + <a href="#link174">Finis</a><br /><br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + A GENERAL PRACTITIONER. + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + PREFACE + </h2> + <p> + It is with great good will that I write this short preface to the edition + of “A Doctor of the Old School” (which has been illustrated by Mr. Gordon + after an admirable and understanding fashion) because there are two things + that I should like to say to my readers, being also my friends. + </p> + <p> + One, is to answer a question that has been often and fairly asked. Was + there ever any doctor so self-forgetful and so utterly Christian as + William MacLure? To which I am proud to reply, on my conscience: Not one + man, but many in Scotland and in the South country. I will dare prophecy + also across the sea. + </p> + <p> + It has been one man's good fortune to know four country doctors, not one + of whom was without his faults—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. + </p> + <p> + Then I desire to thank my readers, and chiefly the medical profession for + the reception given to the Doctor of Drumtochty. + </p> + <p> + For many years I have desired to pay some tribute to a class whose service + to the community was known to every countryman, but after the tale had + gone forth my heart failed. For it might have been despised for the little + grace of letters in the style and because of the outward roughness of the + man. But neither his biographer nor his circumstances have been able to + obscure MacLure who has himself won all honest hearts, and received afresh + the recognition of his more distinguished brethren. From all parts of the + English-speaking world letters have come in commendation of Weelum + MacLure, and many were from doctors who had received new courage. It is + surely more honor than a new writer could ever have deserved to receive + the approbation of a profession whose charity puts us all to shame. + </p> + <p> + May I take this first opportunity to declare how deeply my heart has been + touched by the favor shown to a simple book by the American people, and to + express my hope that one day it may be given me to see you face to face. + </p> + <p> + IAN MACLAREN. Liverpool, Oct. 4, 1895. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> <a name="linkI" id="linkI"></a> <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + A GENERAL PRACTITIONER. + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> <a name="link012" id="link012"></a> <br /><br /> <a + href="images/012.png">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="012.jpg (73K)" src="images/012.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Drumtochty was accustomed to break every law of health, except wholesome + food and fresh air, and yet had reduced the Psalmist's farthest limit to + an average life-rate. Our men made no difference in their clothes for + summer or winter, Drumsheugh and one or two of the larger farmers + condescending to a topcoat on Sabbath, as a penalty of their position, and + without regard to temperature. They wore their blacks at a funeral, + refusing to cover them with anything, out of respect to the deceased, and + standing longest in the kirkyard when the north wind was blowing across a + hundred miles of snow. If the rain was pouring at the Junction, then + Drumtochty stood two minutes longer through sheer native dourness till + each man had a cascade from the tail of his coat, and hazarded the + suggestion, halfway to Kildrummie, that it had been “a bit scrowie,” a + “scrowie” being as far short of a “shoor” as a “shoor” fell below “weet.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link014" id="link014"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/014.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="014.jpg (67K)" src="images/014.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + This sustained defiance of the elements provoked occasional judgments in + the shape of a “hoast” (cough), and the head of the house was then + exhorted by his women folk to “change his feet” if he had happened to walk + through a burn on his way home, and was pestered generally with sanitary + precautions. It is right to add that the gudeman treated such advice with + contempt, regarding it as suitable for the effeminacy of towns, but not + seriously intended for Drumtochty. Sandy Stewart “napped” stones on the + road in his shirt sleeves, wet or fair, summer and winter, till he was + persuaded to retire from active duty at eighty-five, and he spent ten + years more in regretting his hastiness and criticising his successor. The + ordinary course of life, with fine air and contented minds, was to do a + full share of work till seventy, and then to look after “orra” jobs well + into the eighties, and to “slip awa” within sight of ninety. Persons above + ninety were understood to be acquitting themselves with credit, and + assumed airs of authority, brushing aside the opinions of seventy as + immature, and confirming their conclusions with illustrations drawn from + the end of last century. + </p> + <p> + When Hillocks' brother so far forgot himself as to “slip awa” at sixty, + that worthy man was scandalized, and offered laboured explanations at the + “beerial.” + </p> + <p> + “It's an awfu' business ony wy ye look at it, an' a sair trial tae us a'. + A' never heard tell o' sic a thing in oor family afore, an' it's no easy + accoontin' for't. + </p> + <p> + “The gudewife was sayin' he wes never the same sin' a weet nicht he lost + himsel on the muir and slept below a bush; but that's neither here nor + there. A'm thinkin' he sappit his constitution thae twa years he wes + grieve aboot England. That wes thirty years syne, but ye're never the same + aifter thae foreign climates.” + </p> + <p> + Drumtochty listened patiently to Hillocks' apology, but was not satisfied. + </p> + <p> + “It's clean havers about the muir. Losh keep's, we've a' sleepit oot and + never been a hair the waur. + </p> + <p> + “A' admit that England micht hae dune the job; it's no cannie stravagin' + yon wy frae place tae place, but Drums never complained tae me if he hed + been nippit in the Sooth.” + </p> + <p> + The parish had, in fact, lost confidence in Drums after his wayward + experiment with a potato-digging machine, which turned out a lamentable + failure, and his premature departure confirmed our vague impression of his + character. + </p> + <p> + “He's awa noo,” Drumsheugh summed up, after opinion had time to form; “an' + there were waur fouk than Drums, but there's nae doot he was a wee + flichty.” + </p> + <p> + When illness had the audacity to attack a Drumtochty man, it was described + as a “whup,” and was treated by the men with a fine negligence. Hillocks + was sitting in the post-office one afternoon when I looked in for my + letters, and the right side of his face was blazing red. His subject of + discourse was the prospects of the turnip “breer,” but he casually + explained that he was waiting for medical advice. + </p> + <p> + “The gudewife is keepin' up a ding-dong frae mornin' till nicht aboot ma + face, and a'm fair deaved (deafened), so a'm watchin' for MacLure tae get + a bottle as he comes wast; yon's him noo.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor made his diagnosis from horseback on sight, and stated the + result with that admirable clearness which endeared him to Drumtochty. + </p> + <p> + “Confoond ye, Hillocks, what are ye ploiterin' aboot here for in the weet + wi' a face like a boiled beet? Div ye no ken that ye've a titch o' the + rose (erysipelas), and ocht tae be in the hoose? Gae hame wi' ye afore a' + leave the bit, and send a haflin for some medicine. Ye donnerd idiot, are + ye ettlin tae follow Drums afore yir time?” And the medical attendant of + Drumtochty continued his invective till Hillocks started, and still + pursued his retreating figure with medical directions of a simple and + practical character. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link019" id="link019"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/019.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="019.jpg (64K)" src="images/019.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link020" id="link020"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/020.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="020.jpg (69K)" src="images/020.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Hillocks' wife informed the kirkyaird that the doctor “gied the gudeman an + awfu' clear-in',” and that Hillocks “wes keepin' the hoose,” which meant + that the patient had tea breakfast, and at that time was wandering about + the farm buildings in an easy undress with his head in a plaid. + </p> + <p> + It was impossible for a doctor to earn even the most modest competence + from a people of such scandalous health, and so MacLure had annexed + neighbouring parishes. His house—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. + </p> + <p> + One horse could not do the work of this man, but we liked best to see him + on his old white mare, who died the week after her master, and the passing + of the two did our hearts good. It was not that he rode beautifully, for + he broke every canon of art, flying with his arms, stooping till he seemed + to be speaking into Jess's ears, and rising in the saddle beyond all + necessity. But he could rise faster, stay longer in the saddle, and had a + firmer grip with his knees than any one I ever met, and it was all for + mercy's sake. When the reapers in harvest time saw a figure whirling past + in a cloud of dust, or the family at the foot of Glen Urtach, gathered + round the fire on a winter's night, heard the rattle of a horse's hoofs on + the road, or the shepherds, out after the sheep, traced a black speck + moving across the snow to the upper glen, they knew it was the doctor, + and, without being conscious of it, wished him God speed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link023" id="link023"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/023.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="023.jpg (80K)" src="images/023.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Before and behind his saddle were strapped the instruments and medicines + the doctor might want, for he never knew what was before him. There were + no specialists in Drumtochty, so this man had to do everything as best he + could, and as quickly. He was chest doctor and doctor for every other + organ as well; he was accoucheur and surgeon; he was oculist and aurist; + he was dentist and chloroformist, besides being chemist and druggist. It + was often told how he was far up Glen Urtach when the feeders of the + threshing mill caught young Burnbrae, and how he only stopped to change + horses at his house, and galloped all the way to Burnbrae, and flung + himself off his horse and amputated the arm, and saved the lad's life. + </p> + <p> + “You wud hae thocht that every meenut was an hour,” said Jamie Soutar, who + had been at the threshing, “an' a'll never forget the puir lad lying as + white as deith on the floor o' the loft, wi' his head on a sheaf, an' + Burnbrae haudin' the bandage ticht an' prayin' a' the while, and the + mither greetin' in the corner. + </p> + <p> + “'Will he never come?' she cries, an' a' heard the soond o' the horse's + feet on the road a mile awa in the frosty air. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link025" id="link025"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/025.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="025.jpg (109K)" src="images/025.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “'The Lord be praised!' said Burnbrae, and a' slippit doon the ladder as + the doctor came skelpin' intae the close, the foam fleein' frae his + horse's mooth. + </p> + <p> + “Whar is he?' wes a' that passed his lips, an' in five meenuts he hed him + on the feedin' board, and wes at his wark—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. + </p> + <p> + “Noo that's feenished, and his constitution 'ill dae the rest,” and he + carried the lad doon the ladder in his airms like a bairn, and laid him in + his bed, and waits aside him till he wes sleepin', and then says he: + 'Burnbrae, yir gey lad never tae say 'Collie, will yelick?' for a' hevna + tasted meat for saxteen hoors.' + </p> + <p> + “It was michty tae see him come intae the yaird that day, neeburs; the + verra look o' him wes victory.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link028" id="link028"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/028.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="028.jpg (71K)" src="images/028.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Jamie's cynicism slipped off in the enthusiasm of this reminiscence, and + he expressed the feeling of Drumtochty. No one sent for MacLure save in + great straits, and the sight of him put courage in sinking hearts. But + this was not by the grace of his appearance, or the advantage of a good + bedside manner. A tall, gaunt, loosely made man, without an ounce of + superfluous flesh on his body, his face burned a dark brick color by + constant exposure to the weather, red hair and beard turning grey, honest + blue eyes that look you ever in the face, huge hands with wrist bones like + the shank of a ham, and a voice that hurled his salutations across two + fields, he suggested the moor rather than the drawing-room. But what a + clever hand it was in an operation, as delicate as a woman's, and what a + kindly voice it was in the humble room where the shepherd's wife was + weeping by her man's bedside. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link029" id="link029"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/029.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="029.jpg (115K)" src="images/029.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + He was “ill pitten the gither” to begin with, but many of his physical + defects were the penalties of his work, and endeared him to the Glen. That + ugly scar that cut into his right eyebrow and gave him such a sinister + expression, was got one night Jess slipped on the ice and laid him + insensible eight miles from home. His limp marked the big snowstorm in the + fifties, when his horse missed the road in Glen Urtach, and they rolled + together in a drift. MacLure escaped with a broken leg and the fracture of + three ribs, but he never walked like other men again. He could not swing + himself into the saddle without making two attempts and holding Jess's + mane. Neither can you “warstle” through the peat bogs and snow drifts for + forty winters without a touch of rheumatism. But they were honorable + scars, and for such risks of life men get the Victoria Cross in other + fields. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link031" id="link031"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/031.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="031.jpg (111K)" src="images/031.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + MacLure got nothing but the secret affection of the Glen, which knew that + none had ever done one-tenth as much for it as this ungainly, twisted, + battered figure, and I have seen a Drumtochty face soften at the sight of + MacLure limping to his horse. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hopps earned the ill-will of the Glen for ever by criticising the + doctor's dress, but indeed it would have filled any townsman with + amazement. Black he wore once a year, on Sacrament Sunday, and, if + possible, at a funeral; topcoat or waterproof never. His jacket and + waistcoat were rough homespun of Glen Urtach wool, which threw off the wet + like a duck's back, and below he was clad in shepherd's tartan trousers, + which disappeared into unpolished riding boots. His shirt was grey + flannel, and he was uncertain about a collar, but certain as to a tie + which he never had, his beard doing instead, and his hat was soft felt of + four colors and seven different shapes. His point of distinction in dress + was the trousers, and they were the subject of unending speculation. + </p> + <p> + “Some threep that he's worn thae eedentical pair the last twenty year, an' + a' mind masel him gettin' a tear ahint, when he was crossin' oor palin', + and the mend's still veesible. + </p> + <p> + “Ithers declare 'at he's got a wab o' claith, and hes a new pair made in + Muirtown aince in the twa year maybe, and keeps them in the garden till + the new look wears aff. + </p> + <p> + “For ma ain pairt,” Soutar used to declare, “a' canna mak up my mind, but + there's ae thing sure, the Glen wud not like tae see him withoot them: it + wud be a shock tae confidence. There's no muckle o' the check left, but ye + can aye tell it, and when ye see thae breeks comin' in ye ken that if + human pooer can save yir bairn's life it 'ill be dune.” + </p> + <p> + The confidence of the Glen—and tributary states—was unbounded, + and rested partly on long experience of the doctor's resources, and partly + on his hereditary connection. + </p> + <p> + “His father was here afore him,” Mrs. Macfadyen used to explain; “atween + them they've hed the countyside for weel on tae a century; if MacLure + disna understand oor constitution, wha dis, a' wud like tae ask?” + </p> + <p> + For Drumtochty had its own constitution and a special throat disease, as + became a parish which was quite self-contained between the woods and the + hills, and not dependent on the lowlands either for its diseases or its + doctors. + </p> + <p> + “He's a skilly man, Doctor MacLure,” continued my friend Mrs. Macfayden, + whose judgment on sermons or anything else was seldom at fault; “an' a + kind-hearted, though o' coorse he hes his faults like us a', an' he disna + tribble the Kirk often. + </p> + <p> + “He aye can tell what's wrang wi' a body, an' maistly he can put ye richt, + and there's nae new-fangled wys wi' him: a blister for the ootside an' + Epsom salts for the inside dis his wark, an' they say there's no an herb + on the hills he disna ken. + </p> + <p> + “If we're tae dee, we're tae dee; an' if we're tae live, we're tae live,” + concluded Elspeth, with sound Calvinistic logic; “but a'll say this for + the doctor, that whether yir tae live or dee, he can aye keep up a sharp + meisture on the skin.” + </p> + <p> + “But he's no veera ceevil gin ye bring him when there's naethin' wrang,” + and Mrs. Macfayden's face reflected another of Mr. Hopps' misadventures of + which Hillocks held the copyright. + </p> + <p> + “Hopps' laddie ate grosarts (gooseberries) till they hed to sit up a' + nicht wi' him, an' naethin' wud do but they maun hae the doctor, an' he + writes 'immediately' on a slip o' paper. + </p> + <p> + “Weel, MacLure had been awa a' nicht wi' a shepherd's wife Dunleith wy, + and he comes here withoot drawin' bridle, mud up tae the cen. + </p> + <p> + “'What's a dae here, Hillocks?” he cries; 'it's no an accident, is't?' and + when he got aff his horse he cud hardly stand wi' stiffness and tire. + </p> + <p> + “'It's nane o' us, doctor; it's Hopps' laddie; he's been eatin' ower mony + berries.' + </p> + <p> + <a name="link036" id="link036"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/036.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="036.jpg (91K)" src="images/036.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “If he didna turn on me like a tiger. + </p> + <p> + “Div ye mean tae say——' + </p> + <p> + “'Weesht, weesht,' an' I tried tae quiet him, for Hopps wes comin' oot. + </p> + <p> + “'Well, doctor,' begins he, as brisk as a magpie, 'you're here at last; + there's no hurry with you Scotchmen. My boy has been sick all night, and + I've never had one wink of sleep. You might have come a little quicker, + that's all I've got to say.' + </p> + <p> + “We've mair tae dae in Drumtochty than attend tae every bairn that hes a + sair stomach,' and a' saw MacLure wes roosed. + </p> + <p> + “'I'm astonished to hear you speak. Our doctor at home always says to Mrs. + 'Opps “Look on me as a family friend, Mrs. 'Opps, and send for me though + it be only a headache.”' + </p> + <p> + “'He'd be mair sparin' o' his offers if he hed four and twenty mile tae + look aifter. There's naethin' wrang wi' yir laddie but greed. Gie him a + gude dose o' castor oil and stop his meat for a day, an' he 'ill be a' + richt the morn.' + </p> + <p> + “'He 'ill not take castor oil, doctor. We have given up those barbarous + medicines.' + </p> + <p> + “'Whatna kind o' medicines hae ye noo in the Sooth?' + </p> + <p> + “'Well, you see, Dr. MacLure, we're homoeopathists, and I've my little + chest here,' and oot Hopps comes wi' his boxy. + </p> + <p> + “'Let's see't,' an' MacLure sits doon and taks oot the bit bottles, and he + reads the names wi' a lauch every time. + </p> + <p> + “'Belladonna; did ye ever hear the like? Aconite; it cowes a'. Nux Vomica. + What next? Weel, ma mannie,' he says tae Hopps, 'it's a fine ploy, and ye + 'ill better gang on wi' the Nux till it's dune, and gie him ony ither o' + the sweeties he fancies. + </p> + <p> + “'Noo, Hillocks, a' maun be aff tae see Drumsheugh's grieve, for he's doon + wi' the fever, and it's tae be a teuch fecht. A' hinna time tae wait for + dinner; gie me some cheese an' cake in ma haund, and Jess 'ill tak a pail + o' meal an' water. + </p> + <p> + “'Fee; a'm no wantin' yir fees, man; wi' that boxy ye dinna need a doctor; + na, na, gie yir siller tae some puir body, Maister Hopps,' an' he was doon + the road as hard as he cud lick.” + </p> + <p> + His fees were pretty much what the folk chose to give him, and he + collected them once a year at Kildrummie fair. + </p> + <p> + “Well, doctor, what am a' awin' ye for the wife and bairn? Ye 'ill need + three notes for that nicht ye stayed in the hoose an' a' the veesits.” + </p> + <p> + “Havers,” MacLure would answer, “prices are low, a'm hearing; gie's thirty + shillings.” + </p> + <p> + “No, a'll no, or the wife 'ill tak ma ears off,” and it was settled for + two pounds. Lord Kilspindie gave him a free house and fields, and one way + or other, Drumsheugh told me, the doctor might get in about £150 a year, + out of which he had to pay his old housekeeper's wages and a boy's, and + keep two horses, besides the cost of instruments and books, which he + bought through a friend in Edinburgh with much judgment. + </p> + <p> + There was only one man who ever complained of the doctor's charges, and + that was the new farmer of Milton, who was so good that he was above both + churches, and held a meeting in his barn. (It was Milton the Glen supposed + at first to be a Mormon, but I can't go into that now.) He offered MacLure + a pound less than he asked, and two tracts, whereupon MacLure expressed + his opinion of Milton, both from a theological and social standpoint, with + such vigor and frankness that an attentive audience of Drumtochty men + could hardly contain themselves. Jamie Soutar was selling his pig at the + time, and missed the meeting, but he hastened to condole with Milton, who + was complaining everywhere of the doctor's language. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link041" id="link041"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/041.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="041.jpg (72K)" src="images/041.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “Ye did richt tae resist him; it 'ill maybe roose the Glen tae mak a + stand; he fair hands them in bondage. + </p> + <p> + “Thirty shillings for twal veesits, and him no mair than seeven mile awa, + an' a'm telt there werena mair than four at nicht. + </p> + <p> + “Ye 'ill hae the sympathy o' the Glen, for a' body kens yir as free wi' + yir siller as yir tracts. + </p> + <p> + “Wes't 'Beware o' gude warks' ye offered him? Man, ye choose it weel, for + he's been colleckin' sae mony thae forty years, a'm feared for him. + </p> + <p> + “A've often thocht oor doctor's little better than the Gude Samaritan, an' + the Pharisees didna think muckle o' his chance aither in this warld or + that which is tae come.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link044" id="link044"></a> <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THROUGH THE FLOOD. + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a href="images/044.png">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="044.jpg (67K)" src="images/044.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Doctor MacLure did not lead a solemn procession from the sick bed to the + dining-room, and give his opinion from the hearthrug with an air of wisdom + bordering on the supernatural, because neither the Drumtochty houses nor + his manners were on that large scale. He was accustomed to deliver himself + in the yard, and to conclude his directions with one foot in the stirrup; + but when he left the room where the life of Annie Mitchell was ebbing + slowly away, our doctor said not one word, and at the sight of his face + her husband's heart was troubled. + </p> + <p> + He was a dull man, Tammas, who could not read the meaning of a sign, and + labored under a perpetual disability of speech; but love was eyes to him + that day, and a mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Is't as bad as yir lookin', doctor? tell's the truth; wull Annie no come + through?” and Tammas looked MacLure straight in the face, who never + flinched his duty or said smooth things. + </p> + <p> + “A' wud gie onything tae say Annie hes a chance, but a' daurna; a' doot + yir gaein' tae lose her, Tammas.” + </p> + <p> + MacLure was in the saddle, and as he gave his judgment, he laid his hand + on Tammas's shoulder with one of the rare caresses that pass between men. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link046" id="link046"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/046.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="046.jpg (79K)" src="images/046.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “It's a sair business, but ye 'ill play the man and no vex Annie; she 'ill + dae her best, a'll warrant.” + </p> + <p> + “An' a'll dae mine,” and Tammas gave MacLure's hand a grip that would have + crushed the bones of a weakling. Drumtochty felt in such moments the + brotherliness of this rough-looking man, and loved him. + </p> + <p> + Tammas hid his face in Jess's mane, who looked round with sorrow in her + beautiful eyes, for she had seen many tragedies, and in this silent + sympathy the stricken man drank his cup, drop by drop. + </p> + <p> + “A' wesna prepared for this, for a' aye thocht she wud live the + langest.... She's younger than me by ten years, and never wes ill.... + We've been mairit twal year laist Martinmas, but it's juist like a year + the day... A' wes never worthy o' her, the bonniest, snoddest (neatest), + kindliest lass in the Glen.... A' never cud mak oot hoo she ever lookit at + me, 'at hesna hed ae word tae say aboot her till it's ower late.... She + didna cuist up tae me that a' wesna worthy o' her, no her, but aye she + said, 'Yir ma ain gudeman, and nane cud be kinder tae me.' ... An' a' wes + minded tae be kind, but a' see noo mony little trokes a' micht hae dune + for her, and noo the time is bye.... Naebody kens hoo patient she wes wi' + me, and aye made the best o 'me, an' never pit me tae shame afore the + fouk.... An' we never hed ae cross word, no ane in twal year.... We were + mair nor man and wife, we were sweethearts a' the time.... Oh, ma bonnie + lass, what 'ill the bairnies an' me dae withoot ye, Annie?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link049" id="link049"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/049.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="049.jpg (90K)" src="images/049.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + The winter night was falling fast, the snow lay deep upon the ground, and + the merciless north wind moaned through the close as Tammas wrestled with + his sorrow dry-eyed, for tears were denied Drumtochty men. Neither the + doctor nor Jess moved hand or foot, but their hearts were with their + fellow creature, and at length the doctor made a sign to Marget Howe, who + had come out in search of Tammas, and now stood by his side. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link050" id="link050"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/050.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="050.jpg (36K)" src="images/050.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “Dinna mourn tae the brakin' o' yir hert, Tammas,” she said, “as if Annie + an' you hed never luved. Neither death nor time can pairt them that luve; + there's naethin' in a' the warld sae strong as luve. If Annie gaes frae + the sichot' yir een she 'ill come the nearer tae yir hert. She wants tae + see ye, and tae hear ye say that ye 'ill never forget her nicht nor day + till ye meet in the land where there's nae pairtin'. Oh, a' ken what a'm + saying', for it's five year noo sin George gied awa, an' he's mair wi' me + noo than when he wes in Edinboro' and I was in Drumtochty.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link051" id="link051"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/051.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="051.jpg (41K)" src="images/051.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “Thank ye kindly, Marget; thae are gude words and true, an' ye hev the + richt tae say them; but a' canna dae without seem' Annie comin' tae meet + me in the gloamin', an' gaein' in an' oot the hoose, an' hearin' her ca' + me by ma name, an' a'll no can tell her that a'luve her when there's nae + Annie in the hoose. + </p> + <p> + “Can naethin' be dune, doctor? Ye savit Flora Cammil, and young Burnbrae, + an' yon shepherd's wife Dunleith wy, an' we were a sae prood o' ye, an' + pleased tae think that ye hed keepit deith frae anither hame. Can ye no + think o' somethin' tae help Annie, and gie her back tae her man and + bairnies?” and Tammas searched the doctor's face in the cold, weird light. + </p> + <p> + “There's nae pooer on heaven or airth like luve,” Marget said to me + afterwards; “it maks the weak strong and the dumb tae speak. Oor herts + were as water afore Tammas's words, an' a' saw the doctor shake in his + saddle. A' never kent till that meenut hoo he hed a share in a'body's + grief, an' carried the heaviest wecht o' a' the Glen. A' peetied him wi' + Tammas lookin' at him sae wistfully, as if he hed the keys o' life an' + deith in his hands. But he wes honest, and wudna hold oot a false houp tae + deceive a sore hert or win escape for himsel'.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye needna plead wi' me, Tammas, to dae the best a' can for yir wife. Man, + a' kent her lang afore ye ever luved her; a' brocht her intae the warld, + and a' saw her through the fever when she wes a bit lassikie; a' closed + her mither's een, and it was me hed tae tell her she wes an orphan, an' + nae man wes better pleased when she got a gude husband, and a' helpit her + wi' her fower bairns. A've naither wife nor bairns o' ma own, an' a' coont + a' the fouk o' the Glen ma family. Div ye think a' wudna save Annie if I + cud? If there wes a man in Muirtown 'at cud dae mair for her, a'd have him + this verra nicht, but a' the doctors in Perthshire are helpless for this + tribble. + </p> + <p> + “Tammas, ma puir fallow, if it could avail, a' tell ye a' wud lay doon + this auld worn-oot ruckle o' a body o' mine juist tae see ye baith sittin' + at the fireside, an' the bairns roond ye, couthy an' canty again; but it's + no tae be, Tammas, it's no tae be.” + </p> + <p> + “When a' lookit at the doctor's face,” Marget said, “a' thocht him the + winsomest man a' ever saw. He was transfigured that nicht, for a'm judging + there's nae transfiguration like luve.” + </p> + <p> + “It's God's wull an' maun be borne, but it's a sair wull for me, an' a'm + no ungratefu' tae you, doctor, for a' ye've dune and what ye said the + nicht,” and Tammas went back to sit with Annie for the last time. + </p> + <p> + Jess picked her way through the deep snow to the main road, with a skill + that came of long experience, and the doctor held converse with her + according to his wont. + </p> + <p> + “Eh, Jess wumman, yon wes the hardest wark a' hae tae face, and a' wud + raither hae ta'en ma chance o' anither row in a Glen Urtach drift than + tell Tammas Mitchell his wife wes deein'. + </p> + <p> + “A' said she cudna be cured, and it wes true, for there's juist ae man in + the land fit for't, and they micht as weel try tae get the mune oot o' + heaven. Sae a' said naethin' tae vex Tammas's hert, for it's heavy eneuch + withoot regrets. + </p> + <p> + “But it's hard, Jess, that money wull buy life after a', an' if Annie wes + a duchess her man wudna lose her; but bein' only a puir cottar's wife, she + maun dee afore the week's oot. + </p> + <p> + “Gin we hed him the morn there's little doot she would be saved, for he + hesna lost mair than five per cent, o' his cases, and they 'ill be puir + toon's craturs, no strappin women like Annie. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link056" id="link056"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/056.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="056.jpg (79K)" src="images/056.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “It's oot o' the question, Jess, sae hurry up, lass, for we've hed a heavy + day. But it wud be the grandest thing that was ever dune in the Glen in + oor time if it could be managed by hook or crook. + </p> + <p> + “We 'ill gang and see Drumsheugh, Jess; he's anither man sin' Geordie + Hoo's deith, and he wes aye kinder than fouk kent;” and the doctor passed + at a gallop through the village, whose lights shone across the white + frost-bound road. + </p> + <p> + “Come in by, doctor; a' heard ye on the road; ye 'ill hae been at Tammas + Mitchell's; hoo's the gudewife? a' doot she's sober.” + </p> + <p> + “Annie's deein', Drumsheugh, an' Tammas is like tae brak his hert.” + </p> + <p> + “That's no lichtsome, doctor, no lichtsome ava, for a' dinna ken ony man + in Drumtochty sae bund up in his wife as Tammas, and there's no a bonnier + wumman o' her age crosses our kirk door than Annie, nor a cleverer at her + wark. Man, ye 'ill need tae pit yir brains in steep. Is she clean beyond + ye?” + </p> + <p> + “Beyond me and every ither in the land but ane, and it wud cost a hundred + guineas tae bring him tae Drumtochty.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link058" id="link058"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/058.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="058.jpg (59K)" src="images/058.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “Certes, he's no blate; it's a fell chairge for a short day's work; but + hundred or no hundred we'll hae him, an' no let Annie gang, and her no + half her years.” + </p> + <p> + “Are ye meanin' it, Drumsheugh?” and MacLure turned white below the tan. + “William MacLure,” said Drumsheugh, in one of the few confidences that + ever broke the Drumtochty reserve, “a'm a lonely man, wi' naebody o' ma + ain blude tae care for me livin', or tae lift me intae ma coffin when a'm + deid. + </p> + <p> + “A' fecht awa at Muirtown market for an extra pound on a beast, or a + shillin' on the quarter o' barley, an' what's the gude o't? Burnbrae gaes + aff tae get a goon for his wife or a buke for his college laddie, an' + Lachlan Campbell 'ill no leave the place noo without a ribbon for Flora. + </p> + <p> + “Ilka man in the Klldrummie train has some bit fairin' his pooch for the + fouk at hame that he's bocht wi' the siller he won. + </p> + <p> + “But there's naebody tae be lookin' oot for me, an' comin' doon the road + tae meet me, and daffin' (joking) wi' me about their fairing, or feeling + ma pockets. Ou ay, a've seen it a' at ither hooses, though they tried tae + hide it frae me for fear a' wud lauch at them. Me lauch, wi' ma cauld, + empty hame! + </p> + <p> + “Yir the only man kens, Weelum, that I aince luved the noblest wumman in + the glen or onywhere, an' a' luve her still, but wi' anither luve noo. + </p> + <p> + “She had given her heart tae anither, or a've thocht a' micht hae won her, + though nae man be worthy o' sic a gift. Ma hert turned tae bitterness, but + that passed awa beside the brier bush whar George Hoo lay yon sad simmer + time. Some day a'll tell ye ma story, Weelum, for you an' me are auld + freends, and will be till we dee.” + </p> + <p> + MacLure felt beneath the table for Drumsheugh's hand, but neither man + looked at the other. + </p> + <p> + “Weel, a' we can dae noo, Weelum, gin we haena mickle brichtness in oor + ain names, is tae keep the licht frae gaein' oot in anither hoose. Write + the telegram, man, and Sandy 'ill send it aff frae Kildrummie this verra + nicht, and ye 'ill hae yir man the morn.” + </p> + <p> + “Yir the man a' coonted ye, Drumsheugh, but ye 'ill grant me ae favor. Ye + 'ill lat me pay the half, bit by bit—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.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link061" id="link061"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/061.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="061.jpg (84K)" src="images/061.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Next morning a figure received Sir George on the Kildrummie platform, whom + that famous surgeon took for a gillie, but who introduced himself as + “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. + </p> + <p> + “It's a richt in here, for the wind disna get at the snaw, but the drifts + are deep in the Glen, and th'ill be some engineerin' afore we get tae oor + destination.” + </p> + <p> + Four times they left the road and took their way over fields, twice they + forced a passage through a slap in a dyke, thrice they used gaps in the + paling which MacLure had made on his downward journey. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link064" id="link064"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/064.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="064.jpg (58K)" src="images/064.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “A' seleckit the road this mornin', an' a' ken the depth tae an inch; we + 'ill get through this steadin' here tae the main road, but oor worst job + 'ill be crossin' the Tochty. + </p> + <p> + “Ye see the bridge hes been shaken wi' this winter's flood, and we daurna + venture on it, sae we hev tae ford, and the snaw's been melting up Urtach + way. There's nae doot the water's gey big, and it's threatenin' tae rise, + but we 'ill win through wi' a warstle. + </p> + <p> + “It micht be safer tae lift the instruments oot o' reach o' the water; wud + ye mind haddin' them on yir knee till we're ower, an' keep firm in yir + seat in case we come on a stane in the bed o' the river.” + </p> + <p> + By this time they had come to the edge, and it was not a cheering sight. + The Tochty had spread out over the meadows, and while they waited they + could see it cover another two inches on the trunk of a tree. There are + summer floods, when the water is brown and flecked with foam, but this was + a winter flood, which is black and sullen, and runs in the centre with a + strong, fierce, silent current. Upon the opposite side Hillocks stood to + give directions by word and hand, as the ford was on his land, and none + knew the Tochty better in all its ways. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link066" id="link066"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/066.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="066.jpg (159K)" src="images/066.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + They passed through the shallow water without mishap, save when the wheel + struck a hidden stone or fell suddenly into a rut; but when they neared + the body of the river MacLure halted, to give Jess a minute's breathing. + </p> + <p> + “It 'ill tak ye a' yir time, lass, an' a' wud raither be on yir back; but + ye never failed me yet, and a wumman's life is hangin' on the crossin'.” + </p> + <p> + With the first plunge into the bed of the stream the water rose to the + axles, and then it crept up to the shafts, so that the surgeon could feel + it lapping in about his feet, while the dogcart began to quiver, and it + seemed as if it were to be carried away. Sir George was as brave as most + men, but he had never forded a Highland river in flood, and the mass of + black water racing past beneath, before, behind him, affected his + imagination and shook his nerves. He rose from his seat and ordered + MacLure to turn back, declaring that he would be condemned utterly and + eternally if he allowed himself to be drowned for any person. + </p> + <p> + “Sit doon,” thundered MacLure; “condemned ye will be suner or later gin ye + shirk yir duty, but through the water ye gang the day.” + </p> + <p> + Both men spoke much more strongly and shortly, but this is what they + intended to say, and it was MacLure that prevailed. + </p> + <p> + Jess trailed her feet along the ground with cunning art, and held her + shoulder against the stream; MacLure leant forward in his seat, a rein in + each hand, and his eyes fixed on Hillocks, who was now standing up to the + waist in the water, shouting directions and cheering on horse and driver. + </p> + <p> + “Haud tae the richt, doctor; there's a hole yonder. Keep oot o't for ony + sake. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link069" id="link069"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/069.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="069.jpg (87K)" src="images/069.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + That's heap of speechless misery by the kitchen fire, and carried him off + to the barn, and spread some corn on the threshing floor and thrust a + flail into his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Noo we've tae begin, an' we 'ill no be dune for an' oor, and ye've tae + lay on withoot stoppin' till a' come for ye, an' a'll shut the door tae + haud in the noise, an' keep yir dog beside ye, for there maunna be a cheep + aboot the hoose for Annie's sake.” + </p> + <p> + “A'll dae onything ye want me, but if—if—” + </p> + <p> + “A'll come for ye, Tammas, gin there be danger; but what are ye feared for + wi' the Queen's ain surgeon here?” + </p> + <p> + Fifty minutes did the flail rise and fall, save twice, when Tammas crept + to the door and listened, the dog lifting his head and whining. + </p> + <p> + It seemed twelve hours instead of one when the door swung back, and + MacLure filled the doorway, preceded by a great burst of light, for the + sun had arisen on the snow. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link071" id="link071"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/071.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="071.jpg (100K)" src="images/071.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + His face was as tidings of great joy, and Elspeth told me that there was + nothing like it to be seen that afternoon for glory, save the sun itself + in the heavens. + </p> + <p> + “A' never saw the marrow o't, Tammas, an' a'll never see the like again; + it's a' ower, man, withoot a hitch frae beginnin' tae end, and she's + fa'in' asleep as fine as ye like.” + </p> + <p> + “Dis he think Annie ... 'ill live?” + </p> + <p> + “Of coorse he dis, and be aboot the hoose inside a month; that's the gud + o' bein' a clean-bluided, weel-livin'——” + </p> + <p> + “Preserve ye, man, what's wrang wi' ye? it's a mercy a' keppit ye, or we + wud hev hed anither job for Sir George. + </p> + <p> + “Ye're a richt noo; sit doon on the strae. A'll come back in a whilie, an' + ye i'll see Annie juist for a meenut, but ye maunna say a word.” Marget + took him in and let him kneel by Annie's bedside. + </p> + <p> + He said nothing then or afterwards, for speech came only once in his + lifetime to Tammas, but Annie whispered, “Ma ain dear man.” + </p> + <p> + When the doctor placed the precious bag beside Sir George in our solitary + first next morning, he laid a cheque beside it and was about to leave. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said the great man. “Mrs. Macfayden and I were on the gossip + last night, and I know the whole story about you and your friend. + </p> + <p> + “You have some right to call me a coward, but I'll never let you count me + a mean, miserly rascal,” and the cheque with Drumsheugh's painful writing + fell in fifty pieces on the floor. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link074" id="link074"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/074.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="074.jpg (107K)" src="images/074.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + As the train began to move, a voice from the first called so that all the + station heard. “Give's another shake of your hand, MacLure; I'm proud to + have met you; you are an honor to our profession. Mind the antiseptic + dressings.” + </p> + <p> + It was market day, but only Jamie Soutar and Hillocks had ventured down. + </p> + <p> + “Did ye hear yon, Hillocks? hoo dae ye feel? A'll no deny a'm lifted.” + </p> + <p> + Halfway to the Junction Hillocks had recovered, and began to grasp the + situation. + </p> + <p> + “Tell's what he said. A' wud like to hae it exact for Drumsheugh.” + </p> + <p> + “Thae's the eedentical words, an' they're true; there's no a man in + Drumtochty disna ken that, except ane.” + </p> + <p> + “An' wha's thar, Jamie?” + </p> + <p> + “It's Weelum MacLure himsel. Man, a've often girned that he sud fecht awa + for us a', and maybe dee before he kent that he hed githered mair luve + than ony man in the Glen. + </p> + <p> + “'A'm prood tae hae met ye', says Sir George, an' him the greatest doctor + in the land. 'Yir an honor tae oor profession.' + </p> + <p> + “Hillocks, a' wudna hae missed it for twenty notes,” said James Soutar, + cynic-in-ordinary to the parish of Drumtochty. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> <a name="linkIII" id="linkIII"></a> <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + A FIGHT WITH DEATH. + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link078" id="link078"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/078.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="078.jpg (67K)" src="images/078.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + When Drumsheugh's grieve was brought to the gates of death by fever, + caught, as was supposed, on an adventurous visit to Glasgow, the London + doctor at Lord Kilspindie's shooting lodge looked in on his way from the + moor, and declared it impossible for Saunders to live through the night. + </p> + <p> + “I give him six hours, more or less; it is only a question of time,” said + the oracle, buttoning his gloves and getting into the brake; “tell your + parish doctor that I was sorry not to have met him.” + </p> + <p> + Bell heard this verdict from behind the door, and gave way utterly, but + Drumsheugh declined to accept it as final, and devoted himself to + consolation. + </p> + <p> + “Dinna greet like that, Bell wumman, sae lang as Saunders is still + living'; a'll never give up houp, for ma pairt, till oor ain man says the + word. + </p> + <p> + “A' the doctors in the land dinna ken as muckle aboot us as Weelum + MacLure, an' he's ill tae beat when he's trying tae save a man's life.” + </p> + <p> + MacLure, on his coming, would say nothing, either weal or woe, till he had + examined Saunders. Suddenly his face turned into iron before their eyes, + and he looked like one encountering a merciless foe. For there was a feud + between MacLure and a certain mighty power which had lasted for forty + years in Drumtochty. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link080" id="link080"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/080.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="080.jpg (86K)" src="images/080.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “The London doctor said that Saunders wud sough awa afore mornin', did he? + Weel, he's an authority on fevers an' sic like diseases, an' ought tae + ken. + </p> + <p> + “It's may be presumptous o' me tae differ frae him, and it wudna be verra + respectfu' o' Saunders tae live aifter this opeenion. But Saunders wes awe + thraun an' ill tae drive, an' he's as like as no tae gang his own gait. + </p> + <p> + “A'm no meanin' tae reflect on sae clever a man, but he didna ken the + seetuation. He can read fevers like a buik, but he never cam across sic a + thing as the Drumtochty constitution a' his days. + </p> + <p> + “Ye see, when onybody gets as low as puir Saunders here, it's juist a hand + to hand wrastle atween the fever and his constitution, an' of coorse, if + he had been a shilpit, stuntit, feckless effeegy o' a cratur, fed on tea + an' made dishes and pushioned wi' bad air, Saunders wud hae nae chance; he + wes boond tae gae oot like the snuff o' a candle. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link082" id="link082"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/082.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="082.jpg (76K)" src="images/082.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “But Saunders hes been fillin' his lungs for five and thirty year wi' + strong Drumtochty air, an' eatin' naethin' but kirny aitmeal, and drinkin' + naethin' but fresh milk frae the coo, an' followin' the ploo through the + new-turned sweet-smellin' earth, an' swingin' the scythe in haytime and + harvest, till the legs an' airms o' him were iron, an' his chest wes like + the cuttin' o' an oak tree. + </p> + <p> + “He's a waesome sicht the nicht, but Saunders wes a buirdly man aince, and + wull never lat his life be taken lichtly frae him. Na, na, he hesna sinned + against Nature, and Nature 'ill stand by him noo in his oor o' distress. + </p> + <p> + “A' daurna say yea, Bell, muckle as a' wud like, for this is an evil + disease, cunnin, an' treacherous as the deevil himsel', but a' winna say + nay, sae keep yir hert frae despair. + </p> + <p> + “It wull be a sair fecht, but it 'ill be settled one wy or anither by sax + o'clock the morn's morn. Nae man can prophecee hoo it 'ill end, but ae + thing is certain, a'll no see deith tak a Drumtochty man afore his time if + a' can help it. + </p> + <p> + “Noo, Bell ma wumman, yir near deid wi' tire, an' nae wonder. Ye've dune + a' ye cud for yir man, an' ye'll lippen (trust) him the nicht tae + Drumsheugh an' me; we 'ill no fail him or you. + </p> + <p> + “Lie doon an' rest, an' if it be the wull o' the Almichty a'll wauken ye + in the mornin' tae see a livin' conscious man, an' if it be ither-wise + a'll come for ye the suner, Bell,” and the big red hand went out to the + anxious wife. “A' gie ye ma word.” + </p> + <p> + Bell leant over the bed, and at the sight of Saunders' face a + superstitious dread seized her. + </p> + <p> + “See, doctor, the shadow of deith is on him that never lifts. A've seen it + afore, on ma father an' mither. A' canna leave him, a' canna leave him.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link085" id="link085"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/085.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="085.jpg (100K)" src="images/085.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “It's hoverin', Bell, but it hesna fallen; please God it never wull. Gang + but and get some sleep, for it's time we were at oor work. + </p> + <p> + “The doctors in the toons hae nurses an' a' kinds o' handy apparatus,” + said MacLure to Drumsheugh when Bell had gone, “but you an' me 'ill need + tae be nurse the nicht, an' use sic things as we hev. + </p> + <p> + “It 'ill be a lang nicht and anxious wark, but a' wud raither hae ye, auld + freend, wi' me than ony man in the Glen. Ye're no feared tae gie a hand?” + </p> + <p> + “Me feared? No, likely. Man, Saunders cam tae me a haflin, and hes been on + Drumsheugh for twenty years, an' though he be a dour chiel, he's a + faithfu' servant as ever lived. It's waesome tae see him lyin' there + moanin' like some dumb animal frae mornin' tae nicht, an' no able tae + answer his ain wife when she speaks. + </p> + <p> + “Div ye think, Weelum, he hes a chance?” + </p> + <p> + “That he hes, at ony rate, and it 'ill no be your blame or mine if he + hesna mair.” + </p> + <p> + While he was speaking, MacLure took off his coat and waistcoat and hung + them on the back of the door. Then he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt + and laid bare two arms that were nothing but bone and muscle. + </p> + <p> + “It gar'd ma very blood rin faster tae the end of ma fingers juist tae + look at him,” Drumsheugh expatiated afterwards to Hillocks, “for a' saw + noo that there was tae be a stand-up fecht atween him an' deith for + Saunders, and when a' thocht o' Bell an' her bairns, a' kent wha wud win. + </p> + <p> + “'Aff wi' yir coat, Drumsheugh,' said MacLure; 'ye 'ill need tae bend yir + back the nicht; gither a' the pails in the hoose and fill them at the + spring, an' a'll come doon tae help ye wi' the carryin'.'” + </p> + <p> + It was a wonderful ascent up the steep pathway from the spring to the + cottage on its little knoll, the two men in single file, bareheaded, + silent, solemn, each with a pail of water in either hand, MacLure limping + painfully in front, Drumsheugh blowing behind; and when they laid down + their burden in the sick room, where the bits of furniture had been put to + a side and a large tub held the centre, Drumsheugh looked curiously at the + doctor. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link088" id="link088"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/088.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="088.jpg (70K)" src="images/088.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “No, a'm no daft; ye needna be feared; but yir tae get yir first lesson in + medicine the nicht, an' if we win the battle ye can set up for yersel in + the Glen. + </p> + <p> + “There's twa dangers—that Saunders' strength fails, an' that the + force o' the fever grows; and we have juist twa weapons. + </p> + <p> + “Yon milk on the drawers' head an' the bottle of whisky is tae keep up the + strength, and this cool caller water is tae keep doon the fever. + </p> + <p> + “We 'ill cast oot the fever by the virtue o' the earth an' the water.” + </p> + <p> + “Div ye mean tae pit Saunders in the tub?” + </p> + <p> + “Ye hiv it noo, Drumsheugh, and that's hoo a' need yir help.” + </p> + <p> + “Man, Hillocks,” Drumsheugh used to moralize, as often as he remembered + that critical night, “it wes humblin' tae see hoo low sickness can bring a + pooerfu' man, an' ocht tae keep us frae pride.” + </p> + <p> + “A month syne there wesna a stronger man in the Glen than Saunders, an' + noo he wes juist a bundle o' skin and bone, that naither saw nor heard, + nor moved nor felt, that kent naethin' that was dune tae him. + </p> + <p> + “Hillocks, a' wudna hae wished ony man tae hev seen Saunders—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. + </p> + <p> + “Yon big man wes as pitifu' an' gentle as a wumman, and when he laid the + puir fallow in his bed again, he happit him ower as a mither dis her + bairn.” + </p> + <p> + Thrice it was done, Drumsheugh ever bringing up colder water from the + spring, and twice MacLure was silent; but after the third time there was a + gleam in his eye. + </p> + <p> + “We're haudin' oor ain; we're no bein' maistered, at ony rate; mair a' + canna say for three oors. + </p> + <p> + “We 'ill no need the water again, Drumsheugh; gae oot and tak a breath o' + air; a'm on gaird masel.” + </p> + <p> + It was the hour before daybreak, and Drumsheugh wandered through fields he + had trodden since childhood. The cattle lay sleeping in the pastures; + their shadowy forms, with a patch of whiteness here and there, having a + weird suggestion of death. He heard the burn running over the stones; + fifty years ago he had made a dam that lasted till winter. The hooting of + an owl made him start; one had frightened him as a boy so that he ran home + to his mother—she died thirty years ago. The smell of ripe corn + filled the air; it would soon be cut and garnered. He could see the dim + outlines of his house, all dark and cold; no one he loved was beneath the + roof. The lighted window in Saunders' cottage told where a man hung + between life and death, but love was in that home. The futility of life + arose before this lonely man, and overcame his heart with an indescribable + sadness. What a vanity was all human labour, what a mystery all human + life. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link091" id="link091"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/091.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="091.jpg (50K)" src="images/091.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + But while he stood, subtle change came over the night, and the air + trembled round him as if one had whispered. Drumsheugh lifted his head and + looked eastwards. A faint grey stole over the distant horizon, and + suddenly a cloud reddened before his eyes. The sun was not in sight, but + was rising, and sending forerunners before his face. The cattle began to + stir, a blackbird burst into song, and before Drumsheugh crossed the + threshold of Saunders' house, the first ray of the sun had broken on a + peak of the Grampians. + </p> + <p> + MacLure left the bedside, and as the light of the candle fell on the + doctor's face, Drumsheugh could see that it was going well with Saunders. + </p> + <p> + “He's nae waur; an' it's half six noo; it's ower sune tae say mair, but + a'm houpin' for the best. Sit doon and take a sleep, for ye're needin' 't, + Drumsheugh, an', man, ye hae worked for it.” + </p> + <p> + As he dozed off, the last thing Drumsheugh saw was the doctor sitting + erect in his chair, a clenched fist resting on the bed, and his eyes + already bright with the vision of victory. + </p> + <p> + He awoke with a start to find the room flooded with the morning sunshine, + and every trace of last night's work removed. + </p> + <p> + The doctor was bending over the bed, and speaking to Saunders. + </p> + <p> + “It's me, Saunders, Doctor MacLure, ye ken; dinna try tae speak or move; + juist let this drap milk slip ower—ye 'ill be needin' yir breakfast, + lad—and gang tae sleep again.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link094" id="link094"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/094.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="094.jpg (96K)" src="images/094.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Five minutes, and Saunders had fallen into a deep, healthy sleep, all + tossing and moaning come to an end. Then MacLure stepped softly across the + floor, picked up his coat and waistcoat, and went out at the door. + Drumsheugh arose and followed him without a word. They passed through the + little garden, sparkling with dew, and beside the byre, where Hawkie + rattled her chain, impatient for Bell's coming, and by Saunders' little + strip of corn ready for the scythe, till they reached an open field. There + they came to a halt, and Doctor MacLure for once allowed himself to go. + </p> + <p> + His coat he flung east and his waistcoat west, as far as he could hurl + them, and it was plain he would have shouted had he been a complete mile + from Saunders' room. Any less distance was useless for the adequate + expression. He struck Drumsheugh a mighty blow that well-nigh levelled + that substantial man in the dust and then the doctor of Drumtochty issued + his bulletin. + </p> + <p> + “Saunders wesna tae live through the nicht, but he's livin' this meenut, + an' like to live. + </p> + <p> + “He's got by the warst clean and fair, and wi' him that's as good as cure. + </p> + <p> + “It' ill be a graund waukenin' for Bell; she 'ill no be a weedow yet, nor + the bairnies fatherless. + </p> + <p> + “There's nae use glowerin' at me, Drumsheugh, for a body's daft at a time, + an' a' canna contain masel' and a'm no gaein' tae try.” + </p> + <p> + Then it dawned on Drumsheugh that the doctor was attempting the Highland + fling. + </p> + <p> + “He's 'ill made tae begin wi',” Drumsheugh explained in the kirkyard next + Sabbath, “and ye ken he's been terrible mishannelled by accidents, sae ye + may think what like it wes, but, as sure as deith, o' a' the Hielan flings + a' ever saw yon wes the bonniest. + </p> + <p> + “A' hevna shaken ma ain legs for thirty years, but a' confess tae a turn + masel. Ye may lauch an' ye like, neeburs, but the thocht o' Bell an' the + news that wes waitin' her got the better o' me.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link097" id="link097"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/097.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="097.jpg (57K)" src="images/097.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Drumtochty did not laugh. Drumtochty looked as if it could have done quite + otherwise for joy. + </p> + <p> + “A' wud hae made a third gin a hed been there,” announced Hillocks, + aggressively. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link098" id="link098"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/098.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="098.jpg (37K)" src="images/098.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “Come on, Drumsheugh,” said Jamie Soutar, “gie's the end o't; it wes a + michty mornin'.” + </p> + <p> + “'We're twa auld fules,' says MacLure tae me, and he gaithers up his + claithes. 'It wud set us better tae be tellin' Bell.' + </p> + <p> + “She wes sleepin' on the top o' her bed wrapped in a plaid, fair worn oot + wi' three weeks' nursin' o' Saunders, but at the first touch she was oot + upon the floor. + </p> + <p> + “'Is Saunders deein', doctor?' she cries. 'Ye promised tae wauken me; + dinna tell me it's a' ower.' + </p> + <p> + “'There's nae deein' aboot him, Bell; ye're no tae lose yir man this time, + sae far as a' can see. Come ben an' jidge for yersel'.' + </p> + <p> + “Bell lookit at Saunders, and the tears of joy fell on the bed like rain. + </p> + <p> + “'The shadow's lifted,' she said; 'he's come back frae the mooth o' the + tomb. + </p> + <p> + “'A' prayed last nicht that the Lord wud leave Saunders till the laddies + cud dae for themselves, an' thae words came intae ma mind, 'Weepin' may + endure for a nicht, but joy cometh in the mornin'.” + </p> + <p> + “'The Lord heard ma prayer, and joy hes come in the mornin',' an' she + gripped the doctor's hand. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link100" id="link100"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/100.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="100.jpg (63K)" src="images/100.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “'Ye've been the instrument, Doctor MacLure. Ye wudna gie him up, and ye + did what nae ither cud for him, an' a've ma man the day, and the bairns + hae their father.' + </p> + <p> + “An' afore MacLure kent what she was daein', Bell lifted his hand to her + lips an' kissed it.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she, though?” cried Jamie. “Wha wud hae thocht there wes as muckle + spunk in Bell?” + </p> + <p> + “MacLure, of coorse, was clean scandalized,” continued Drumsheugh, “an' + pooed awa his hand as if it hed been burned. + </p> + <p> + “Nae man can thole that kind o' fraikin', and a' never heard o' sic a + thing in the parish, but we maun excuse Bell, neeburs; it wes an occasion + by ordinar,” and Drumsheugh made Bell's apology to Drumtochty for such an + excess of feeling. + </p> + <p> + “A' see naethin' tae excuse,” insisted Jamie, who was in great fettle that + Sabbath; “the doctor hes never been burdened wi' fees, and a'm judgin' he + coonted a wumman's gratitude that he saved frae weedowhood the best he + ever got.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link102" id="link102"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/102.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="102.jpg (90K)" src="images/102.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “A' gaed up tae the Manse last nicht,” concluded Drumsheugh, “and telt the + minister hoo the doctor focht aucht oors for Saunders' life, an' won, and + ye never saw a man sae carried. He walkit up and doon the room a' the + time, and every other meenut he blew his nose like a trumpet. + </p> + <p> + “'I've a cold in my head to-night, Drumsheugh,' says he; 'never mind me.'” + </p> + <p> + “A've hed the same masel in sic circumstances; they come on sudden,” said + Jamie. + </p> + <p> + “A' wager there 'ill be a new bit in the laist prayer the day, an' + somethin' worth hearin'.” + </p> + <p> + And the fathers went into kirk in great expectation. + </p> + <p> + “We beseech Thee for such as be sick, that Thy hand may be on them for + good, and that Thou wouldst restore them again to health and strength,” + was the familiar petition of every Sabbath. + </p> + <p> + The congregation waited in a silence that might be heard, and were not + disappointed that morning, for the minister continued: + </p> + <p> + “Especially we tender Thee hearty thanks that Thou didst spare Thy servant + who was brought down into the dust of death, and hast given him back to + his wife and children, and unto that end didst wonderfully bless the skill + of him who goes out and in amongst us, the beloved physician of this + parish and adjacent districts.” + </p> + <p> + “Didna a' tell ye, neeburs?” said Jamie, as they stood at the kirkyard + gate before dispersing; “there's no a man in the coonty cud hae dune it + better. 'Beloved physician,' an' his 'skill,' tae, an' bringing in + 'adjacent districts'; that's Glen Urtach; it wes handsome, and the doctor + earned it, ay, every word. + </p> + <p> + “It's an awfu' peety he didna hear you; but dear knows whar he is the day, + maist likely up—” + </p> + <p> + Jamie stopped suddenly at the sound of a horse's feet, and there, coming + down the avenue of beech trees that made a long vista from the kirk gate, + they saw the doctor and Jess. + </p> + <p> + One thought flashed through the minds of the fathers of the commonwealth. + </p> + <p> + It ought to be done as he passed, and it would be done if it were not + Sabbath. Of course it was out of the question on Sabbath. + </p> + <p> + The doctor is now distinctly visible, riding after his fashion. + </p> + <p> + There was never such a chance, if it were only Saturday; and each man + reads his own regret in his neighbor's face. + </p> + <p> + The doctor is nearing them rapidly; they can imagine the shepherd's + tartan. + </p> + <p> + Sabbath or no Sabbath, the Glen cannot let him pass without some tribute + of their pride. + </p> + <p> + Jess had recognized friends, and the doctor is drawing rein. + </p> + <p> + “It hes tae be dune,” said Jamie desperately, “say what ye like.” Then + they all looked towards him, and Jamie led. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link106" id="link106"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/106.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="106.jpg (71K)" src="images/106.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “Hurrah,” swinging his Sabbath hat in the air, “hurrah,” and once more, + “hurrah,” Whinnie Knowe, Drumsheugh, and Hillocks joining lustily, but + Tammas Mitchell carrying all before him, for he had found at last an + expression for his feelings that rendered speech unnecessary. + </p> + <p> + It was a solitary experience for horse and rider, and Jess bolted without + delay. But the sound followed and surrounded them, and as they passed the + corner of the kirkyard, a figure waved his college cap over the wall and + gave a cheer on his own account. + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, doctor, and well done.” + </p> + <p> + “If it isna the minister,” cried Drumsheugh, “in his goon an' bans, tae + think o' that; but a' respeck him for it.” + </p> + <p> + Then Drumtochty became self-conscious, and went home in confusion of face + and unbroken silence, except Jamie Soutar, who faced his neighbors at the + parting of the ways without shame. + </p> + <p> + “A' wud dae it a' ower again if a' hed the chance; he got naethin' but his + due.” It was two miles before Jess composed her mind, and the doctor and + she could discuss it quietly together. + </p> + <p> + “A' can hardly believe ma ears, Jess, an' the Sabbath tae; their verra + jidgment hes gane frae the fouk o' Drumtochty. + </p> + <p> + “They've heard about Saunders, a'm thinkin', wumman, and they're pleased + we brocht him roond; he's fairly on the mend, ye ken, noo. + </p> + <p> + “A' never expeckit the like o' this, though, and it wes juist a wee + thingie mair than a' cud hae stude. + </p> + <p> + “Ye hev yir share in't tae, lass; we've hed mony a hard nicht and day + thegither, an' yon wes oor reward. No mony men in this warld 'ill ever get + a better, for it cam frae the hert o' honest fouk.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="linkIV" id="linkIV"></a> <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE DOCTOR'S LAST JOURNEY. + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> <a name="link110" id="link110"></a> <br /><br /> <a + href="images/110.png">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="110.jpg (68K)" src="images/110.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Drumtochty had a vivid recollection of the winter when Dr. MacLure was + laid up for two months with a broken leg, and the Glen was dependent on + the dubious ministrations of the Kildrummie doctor. Mrs. Macfayden also + pretended to recall a “whup” of some kind or other he had in the fifties, + but this was considered to be rather a pyrotechnic display of Elspeth's + superior memory than a serious statement of fact. MacLure could not have + ridden through the snow of forty winters without suffering, yet no one + ever heard him complain, and he never pled illness to any messenger by + night or day. + </p> + <p> + “It took me,” said Jamie Soutar to Milton afterwards, “the feck o' ten + meenuts tae howk him 'an' Jess oot ae snawy nicht when Drums turned bad + sudden, and if he didna try to excuse himself for no hearing me at aince + wi' some story aboot juist comin' in frae Glen Urtach, and no bein' in his + bed for the laist twa nichts. + </p> + <p> + “He wes that carefu' o' himsel an' lazy that if it hedna been for the + siller, a've often thocht, Milton, he wud never hae dune a handstroke o' + wark in the Glen. + </p> + <p> + “What scunnered me wes the wy the bairns were ta'en in wi' him. Man, a've + seen him tak a wee laddie on his knee that his ain mither cudna quiet, an' + lilt 'Sing a song o' saxpence' till the bit mannie would be lauchin' like + a gude are, an' pooin' the doctor's beard. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link112" id="link112"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/112.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="112.jpg (57K)" src="images/112.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “As for the weemen, he fair cuist a glamour ower them; they're daein' + naethin' noo but speak aboot this body and the ither he cured, an' hoo he + aye hed a couthy word for sick fouk. Weemen hae nae discernment, Milton; + tae hear them speak ye wud think MacLure hed been a releegious man like + yersel, although, as ye said, he wes little mair than a Gallio. + </p> + <p> + “Bell Baxter was haverin' awa in the shop tae sic an extent aboot the wy + MacLure brocht roond Saunders when he hed the fever that a' gied oot at + the door, a' wes that disgusted, an' a'm telt when Tammas Mitchell heard + the news in the smiddy he wes juist on the greeting. + </p> + <p> + “The smith said that he wes thinkin' o' Annie's tribble, but ony wy a' ca' + it rael bairnly. It's no like Drumtochty; ye're setting an example, + Milton, wi' yir composure. But a' mind ye took the doctor's meesure as + sune as ye cam intae the pairish.” + </p> + <p> + It is the penalty of a cynic that he must have some relief for his secret + grief, and Milton began to weary of life in Jamie's hands during those + days. + </p> + <p> + Drumtochty was not observant in the matter of health, but they had grown + sensitive about Dr. MacLure, and remarked in the kirkyard all summer that + he was failing. + </p> + <p> + “He wes aye spare,” said Hillocks, “an' he's been sair twisted for the + laist twenty year, but a' never mind him booed till the year. An' he's + gaein' intae sma' buke (bulk), an' a' dinna like that, neeburs. + </p> + <p> + “The Glen wudna dae weel withoot Weelum MacLure, an' he's no as young as + he wes. Man, Drumsheugh, ye micht wile him aff tae the saut water atween + the neeps and the hairst. He's been workin' forty year for a holiday, an' + it's aboot due.” + </p> + <p> + Drumsheugh was full of tact, and met MacLure quite by accident on the + road. + </p> + <p> + “Saunders'll no need me till the shearing begins,” he explained to the + doctor, “an' a'm gaein' tae Brochty for a turn o' the hot baths; they're + fine for the rheumatics. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link115" id="link115"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/115.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="115.jpg (49K)" src="images/115.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “Wull ye no come wi' me for auld lang syne? it's lonesome for a solitary + man, an' it wud dae ye gude.” + </p> + <p> + “Na, na, Drumsheugh,” said MacLure, who understood perfectly, “a've dune + a' thae years withoot a break, an' a'm laith (unwilling) tae be takin' + holidays at the tail end. + </p> + <p> + “A'll no be mony months wi' ye a' thegither noo, an' a'm wanting tae spend + a' the time a' hev in the Glen. Ye see yersel that a'll sune be getting ma + lang rest, an' a'll no deny that a'm wearyin' for it.” + </p> + <p> + As autumn passed into winter, the Glen noticed that the doctor's hair had + turned grey, and that his manner had lost all its roughness. A feeling of + secret gratitude filled their hearts, and they united in a conspiracy of + attention. Annie Mitchell knitted a huge comforter in red and white, which + the doctor wore in misery for one whole day, out of respect for Annie, and + then hung it in his sitting-room as a wall ornament. Hillocks used to + intercept him with hot drinks, and one drifting day compelled him to + shelter till the storm abated. Flora Campbell brought a wonderful compound + of honey and whiskey, much tasted in Auchindarroch, for his cough, and the + mother of young Burnbrae filled his cupboard with black jam, as a healing + measure. Jamie Soutar seemed to have an endless series of jobs in the + doctor's direction, and looked in “juist tae rest himsel” in the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + MacLure had been slowly taking in the situation, and at last he unburdened + himself one night to Jamie. + </p> + <p> + “What ails the fouk, think ye? for they're aye lecturin' me noo tae tak + care o' the weet and tae wrap masel up, an' there's no a week but they're + sendin' bit presents tae the house, till a'm fair ashamed.” + </p> + <p> + “Oo, a'll explain that in a meenut,” answered Jamie, “for a' ken the Glen + weel. Ye see they're juist try in' the Scripture plan o' heapin' coals o' + fire on yer head. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link118" id="link118"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/118.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="118.jpg (128K)" src="images/118.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Ye've been carryin' on this trade ever sin yir father dee'd, and the Glen + didna notis. But ma word, they've fund ye oot at laist, an' they're gaein' + tae mak ye suffer for a' yir ill usage. Div ye understand noo?” said + Jamie, savagely. + </p> + <p> + For a while MacLure was silent, and then he only said: + </p> + <p> + “It's little a' did for the puir bodies; but ye hev a gude hert, Jamie, a + rael good hert.” + </p> + <p> + It was a bitter December Sabbath, and the fathers were settling the + affairs of the parish ankle deep in snow, when MacLure's old housekeeper + told Drumsheugh that the doctor was not able to rise, and wished to see + him in the afternoon. “Ay, ay,” said Hillocks, shaking his head, and that + day Drumsheugh omitted four pews with the ladle, while Jamie was so + vicious on the way home that none could endure him. + </p> + <p> + Janet had lit a fire in the unused grate, and hung a plaid by the window + to break the power of the cruel north wind, but the bare room with its + half-a-dozen bits of furniture and a worn strip of carpet, and the outlook + upon the snow drifted up to the second pane of the window and the black + firs laden with their icy burden, sent a chill to Drumsheugh's heart. + </p> + <p> + The doctor had weakened sadly, and could hardly lift his head, but his + face lit up at the sight of his visitor, and the big hand, which was now + quite refined in its whiteness, came out from the bed-clothes with the old + warm grip. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link121" id="link121"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/121.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="121.jpg (72K)" src="images/121.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “Come in by, man, and sit doon; it's an awfu' day tae bring ye sae far, + but a' kent ye wudna grudge the traivel. + </p> + <p> + “A' wesna sure till last nicht, an' then a' felt it wudna be lang, an' a' + took a wearyin' this mornin' tae see ye. + </p> + <p> + “We've been friends sin' we were laddies at the auld school in the firs, + an' a' wud like ye tae be wi' me at the end. Ye 'ill stay the nicht, + Paitrick, for auld lang syne.” + </p> + <p> + Drumsheugh was much shaken, and the sound of the Christian name, which he + had not heard since his mother's death, gave him a “grue” (shiver), as if + one had spoken from the other world. + </p> + <p> + “It's maist awfu' tae hear ye speakin' aboot deein', Weelum; a' canna bear + it. We 'ill hae the Muirtown doctor up, an' ye 'ill be aboot again in nae + time. + </p> + <p> + “Ye hevna ony sair tribble; ye're juist trachled wi' hard wark an' needin' + a rest. Dinna say ye're gaein' tae leave us, Weelum; we canna dae withoot + ye in Drumtochty;” and Drumsheugh looked wistfully for some word of hope. + </p> + <p> + “Na, na, Paitrick, naethin' can be dune, an' it's ower late tae send for + ony doctor. There's a knock that canna be mista'en, an' a' heard it last + night. A've focht deith for ither fouk mair than forty year, but ma ain + time hes come at laist. + </p> + <p> + “A've nae tribble worth mentionin'—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'.” + </p> + <p> + Drumsheugh went over to the fireplace, and for a while did nothing but + break up the smouldering peats, whose smoke powerfully affected his nose + and eyes. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link124" id="link124"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/124.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="124.jpg (82K)" src="images/124.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “When ye're ready, Paitrick, there's twa or three little trokes a' wud + like ye tae look aifter, an' a'll tell ye aboot them as lang's ma head's + clear. + </p> + <p> + “A' didna keep buiks, as ye ken, for a' aye hed a guid memory, so naebody + 'ill be harried for money aifter ma deith, and ye 'ill hae nae accoonts + tae collect. + </p> + <p> + “But the fouk are honest in Drumtochty, and they 'ill be offerin' ye + siller, an' a'll gie ye ma mind aboot it. Gin it be a puir body, tell her + tae keep it and get a bit plaidie wi' the money, and she 'ill maybe think + o' her auld doctor at a time. Gin it be a bien (well-to-do) man, tak half + of what he offers, for a Drumtochty man wud scorn to be mean in sic + circumstances; and if onybody needs a doctor an' canna pay for him, see + he's no left tae dee when a'm oot o' the road.” + </p> + <p> + “Nae fear o' that as lang as a'm livin', Weelum; that hundred's still tae + the fore, ye ken, an' a'll tak care it's weel spent. + </p> + <p> + “Yon wes the best job we ever did thegither, an' dookin' Saunders, ye 'ill + no forget that nicht, Weelum”—a gleam came into the doctor's eyes—“tae + say neathin' o' the Highlan' fling.” + </p> + <p> + The remembrance of that great victory came upon Drumsheugh, and tried his + fortitude. + </p> + <p> + “What 'ill become o's when ye're no here tae gie a hand in time o' need? + we 'ill tak ill wi' a stranger that disna ken ane o's frae anither.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a' for the best, Paitrick, an' ye 'ill see that in a whilie. A've + kent fine that ma day wes ower, an' that ye sud hae a younger man. + </p> + <p> + “A' did what a' cud tae keep up wi' the new medicine, but a' hed little + time for readin', an' nane for traivellin'. + </p> + <p> + “A'm the last o' the auld schule, an' a' ken as weel as onybody thet a' + wesna sae dainty an' fine-mannered as the town doctors. Ye took me as a' + wes, an' naebody ever cuist up tae me that a' wes a plain man. Na, na; + ye've been rael kind an' conseederate a' thae years.” + </p> + <p> + “Weelum, gin ye cairry on sic nonsense ony langer,” interrupted + Drumsheugh, huskily, “a'll leave the hoose; a' canna stand it.” + </p> + <p> + “It's the truth, Paitrick, but we 'ill gae on wi' our wark, far a'm + failin' fast. + </p> + <p> + “Gie Janet ony sticks of furniture she needs tae furnish a hoose, and sell + a' thing else tae pay the wricht (undertaker) an' bedrel (grave-digger). + If the new doctor be a young laddie and no verra rich, ye micht let him + hae the buiks an' instruments; it 'ill aye be a help. + </p> + <p> + “But a' wudna like ye tae sell Jess, for she's been a faithfu' servant, + an' a freend tae. There's a note or twa in that drawer a' savit, an' if ye + kent ony man that wud gie her a bite o' grass and a sta' in his stable + till she followed her maister—' + </p> + <p> + “Confoond ye, Weelum,” broke out Drumsheugh; “its doonricht cruel o' ye to + speak like this tae me. Whar wud Jess gang but tae Drumsheugh? she 'ill + hae her run o' heck an' manger sae lang as she lives; the Glen wudna like + tae see anither man on Jess, and nae man 'ill ever touch the auld mare.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link128" id="link128"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/128.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="128.jpg (57K)" src="images/128.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “Dinna mind me, Paitrick, for a” expeckit this; but ye ken we're no verra + gleg wi' oor tongues in Drumtochty, an' dinna tell a' that's in oor + hearts. + </p> + <p> + “Weel, that's a' that a' mind, an' the rest a' leave tae yersel'. A've + neither kith nor kin tae bury me, sae you an' the neeburs 'ill need tae + lat me doon; but gin Tammas Mitchell or Saunders be stannin' near and + lookin' as if they wud like a cord, gie't tae them, Paitrick. They're + baith dour chiels, and haena muckle tae say, but Tammas hes a graund hert, + and there's waur fouk in the Glen than Saunders. + </p> + <p> + “A'm gettin' drowsy, an' a'll no be able tae follow ye sune, a' doot; wud + ye read a bit tae me afore a' fa' ower? + </p> + <p> + “Ye 'ill find ma mither's Bible on the drawers' heid, but ye 'ill need tae + come close tae the bed, for a'm no hearin' or seein' sae weel as a' wes + when ye cam.” + </p> + <p> + Drumsheugh put on his spectacles and searched for a comfortable Scripture, + while the light of the lamp fell on his shaking hands and the doctor's + face where the shadow was now settling. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link130" id="link130"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/130.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="130.jpg (48K)" src="images/130.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “Ma mither aye wantit this read tae her when she wes sober” (weak), and + Drumsheugh began, “In My Father's house are many mansions,” but MacLure + stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “It's a bonnie word, an' yir mither wes a sanct; but it's no for the like + o' me. It's ower gude; a' daurna tak it. + </p> + <p> + “Shut the buik an' let it open itsel, an' ye 'ill get a bit a've been + readin' every nicht the laist month.” + </p> + <p> + Then Drumsheugh found the Parable wherein the Master tells us what God + thinks of a Pharisee and of a penitent sinner, till he came to the words: + “And the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his + eyes to heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me a + sinner.” + </p> + <p> + “That micht hae been written for me, Paitrick, or ony ither auld sinner + that hes feenished his life, an' hes naethin' tae say for himsel'. + </p> + <p> + “It wesna easy for me tae get tae kirk, but a' cud hae managed wi' a + stretch, an' a' used langidge a' sudna, an' a' micht hae been gentler, and + not been so short in the temper. A' see't a' noo. + </p> + <p> + “It's ower late tae mend, but ye 'ill maybe juist say to the fouk that I + wes sorry, an' a'm houpin' that the Almichty 'ill hae mercy on me. + </p> + <p> + “Cud ye ... pit up a bit prayer, Paitrick?” + </p> + <p> + “A' haena the words,” said Drumsheugh in great distress; “wud ye like's + tae send for the minister?” + </p> + <p> + “It's no the time for that noo, an' a' wud rather hae yersel'—juist + what's in yir heart, Paitrick: the Almichty 'ill ken the lave (rest) + Himsel'.” + </p> + <p> + So Drumsheugh knelt and prayed with many pauses. + </p> + <p> + “Almichty God ... dinna be hard on Weelum MacLure, for he's no been hard + wi' onybody in Drumtochty.... Be kind tae him as he's been tae us a' for + forty year.... We're a' sinners afore Thee.... Forgive him what he's dune + wrang, an' dinna cuist it up tae him.... Mind the fouk he's helpit .... + the wee-men an' bairnies.... an' gie him a welcome hame, for he's sair + needin't after a' his wark.... Amen.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank ye, Paitrick, and gude nicht tae ye. Ma ain true freend, gie's yir + hand, for a'll maybe no ken ye again. + </p> + <p> + “Noo a'll say ma mither's prayer and hae a sleep, but ye 'ill no leave me + till a' is ower.” + </p> + <p> + Then he repeated as he had done every night of his life: + </p> + <p> + “This night I lay me down to sleep,<br /> I pray the Lord my soul to keep.<br /> + And if I die before I wake,<br /> I pray the Lord my soul to take.” + </p> + <p> + He was sleeping quietly when the wind drove the snow against the window + with a sudden “swish;” and he instantly awoke, so to say, in his sleep. + Some one needed him. + </p> + <p> + “Are ye frae Glen Urtach?” and an unheard voice seemed to have answered + him. + </p> + <p> + “Worse is she, an' suffering awfu'; that's no lichtsome; ye did richt tae + come. + </p> + <p> + “The front door's drifted up; gang roond tae the back, an' ye 'ill get + intae the kitchen; a'll be ready in a meenut. + </p> + <p> + “Gie's a hand wi' the lantern when a'm saidling Jess, an' ye needna come + on till daylicht; a' ken the road.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link134" id="link134"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/134.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="134.jpg (68K)" src="images/134.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Then he was away in his sleep on some errand of mercy, and struggling + through the storm. “It's a coorse nicht, Jess, an' heavy traivellin'; can + ye see afore ye, lass? for a'm clean confused wi' the snaw; bide a wee + till a' find the diveesion o' the roads; it's aboot here back or forrit. + </p> + <p> + “Steady, lass, steady, dinna plunge; i'ts a drift we're in, but ye're no + sinkin'; ... up noo; ... there ye are on the road again. + </p> + <p> + “Eh, it's deep the nicht, an' hard on us baith, but there's a puir wumman + micht dee if we didna warstle through; ... that's it; ye ken fine what a'm + sayin.' + </p> + <p> + “We 'ill hae tae leave the road here, an' tak tae the muir. Sandie 'ill no + can leave the wife alane tae meet us; ... feel for yersel” lass, and keep + oot o' the holes. + </p> + <p> + “Yon's the hoose black in the snaw. Sandie! man, ye frichtened us; a' + didna see ye ahint the dyke; hoos the wife?” + </p> + <p> + After a while he began again: + </p> + <p> + “Ye're fair dune, Jess, and so a' am masel'; we're baith gettin' auld, an' + dinna tak sae weel wi' the nicht wark. + </p> + <p> + “We 'ill sune be hame noo; this is the black wood, and it's no lang aifter + that; we're ready for oor beds, Jess.... ay, ye like a clap at a time; + mony a mile we've gaed hegither. + </p> + <p> + “Yon's the licht in the kitchen window; nae wonder ye're nickering + (neighing).... it's been a stiff journey; a'm tired, lass.... a'm tired + tae deith,” and the voice died into silence. + </p> + <p> + Drumsheugh held his friend's hand, which now and again tightened in his, + and as he watched, a change came over the face on the pillow beside him. + The lines of weariness disappeared, as if God's hand had passed over it; + and peace began to gather round the closed eyes. + </p> + <p> + The doctor has forgotten the toil of later years, and has gone back to his + boyhood. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link137" id="link137"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/137.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="137.jpg (95K)" src="images/137.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want,” he repeated, till he came to the + last verse, and then he hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Goodness and mercy all my life<br /> Shall surely follow me. + </p> + <p> + “Follow me ... and ... and ... what's next? Mither said I wes tae haed + ready when she cam. + </p> + <p> + “'A'll come afore ye gang tae sleep, Wullie, but ye 'ill no get yir kiss + unless ye can feenish the psalm.' + </p> + <p> + “And ... in God's house ... for evermore my ... hoo dis it rin? a canna + mind the next word ... my, my— + </p> + <p> + “It's ower dark noo tae read it, an' mither 'ill sune be comin.” + </p> + <p> + Drumsheugh, in an agony, whispered into his ear, “'My dwelling-place,' + Weelum.” + </p> + <p> + “That's it, that's it a' noo; wha said it? + </p> + <p> + “And in God's house for evermore<br /> My dwelling-place shall be. + </p> + <p> + “A'm ready noo, an' a'll get ma kiss when mither comes; a' wish she wud + come, for a'm tired an' wantin' tae sleep. + </p> + <p> + “Yon's her step ... an' she's carryin' a licht in her hand; a' see it + through the door. + </p> + <p> + “Mither! a' kent ye wudna forget yir laddie for ye promised tae come, and + a've feenished ma psalm. + </p> + <p> + “And in God's house for evermore<br /> My dwelling-place shall be. + </p> + <p> + “Gie me the kiss, mither, for a've been waitin' for ye, an' a'll sune be + asleep.” + </p> + <p> + The grey morning light fell on Drumsheugh, still holding his friend's cold + hand, and staring at a hearth where the fire had died down into white + ashes; but the peace on the doctor's face was of one who rested from his + labours. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <a name="linkV" id="linkV"></a> <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link141" id="link141"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/141.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="141.jpg (68K)" src="images/141.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Dr. MacLure was buried during the great snowstorm which is still spoken + of, and will remain the standard of snowfall in Drumtochty for the + century. The snow was deep on the Monday, and the men that gave notice of + his funeral had hard work to reach the doctor's distant patients. On + Tuesday morning it began to fall again in heavy, fleecy flakes, and + continued till Thursday, and then on Thursday the north wind rose and + swept the snow into the hollows of the roads that went to the upland + farms, and built it into a huge bank at the mouth of Glen Urtach, and laid + it across our main roads in drifts of every size and the most lovely + shapes, and filled up crevices in the hills to the depth of fifty feet. + </p> + <p> + On Friday morning the wind had sunk to passing gusts that powdered your + coat with white, and the sun was shining on one of those winter landscapes + no townsman can imagine and no countryman ever forgets. The Glen, from end + to end and side to side, was clothed in a glistering mantle white as no + fuller on earth could white it, that flung its skirts over the clumps of + trees and scattered farmhouses, and was only divided where the Tochty ran + with black, swollen stream. The great moor rose and fell in swelling + billows of snow that arched themselves over the burns, running deep in the + mossy ground, and hid the black peat bogs with a thin, treacherous crust. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link143" id="link143"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/143.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="143.jpg (55K)" src="images/143.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Beyond, the hills northwards and westwards stood high in white majesty, + save where the black crags of Glen Urtach broke the line, and, above our + lower Grampians, we caught glimpses of the distant peaks that lifted their + heads in holiness unto God. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to me a fitting day for William MacLure's funeral, rather than + summer time, with its flowers and golden corn. He had not been a soft man, + nor had he lived an easy life, and now he was to be laid to rest amid the + austere majesty of winter, yet in the shining of the sun. Jamie Soutar, + with whom I toiled across the Glen, did not think with me, but was gravely + concerned. + </p> + <p> + “Nae doot it's a graund sicht; the like o't is no gien tae us twice in a + generation, an' nae king wes ever carried tae his tomb in sic a cathedral. + </p> + <p> + “But it's the fouk a'm conseederin', an' hoo they'll win through; it's + hard eneuch for them 'at's on the road, an' it's clean impossible for the + lave. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link145" id="link145"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/145.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="145.jpg (85K)" src="images/145.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “They 'ill dae their best, every man o' them, ye may depend on that, an' + hed it been open weather there wudna hev been six able-bodied men missin'. + </p> + <p> + “A' wes mad at them, because they never said onything when he wes leevin', + but they felt for a' that what he hed dune, an', a' think, he kent it + afore he deed. + </p> + <p> + “He hed juist ae faut, tae ma thinkin', for a' never jidged the waur o' + him for his titch of rochness—guid trees hae gnarled bark—but + he thotched ower little o' himsel'. + </p> + <p> + “Noo, gin a' hed asked him hoo mony fouk wud come tae his beerial, he wud + hae said, 'They 'ill be Drumsheugh an' yersel', an' may be twa or three + neeburs besides the minister,' an' the fact is that nae man in oor time + wud hae sic a githerin' if it werena for the storm. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link147" id="link147"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/147.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="147.jpg (59K)" src="images/147.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link148" id="link148"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/148.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="148.jpg (69K)" src="images/148.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + Drumsheugh was acknowledged as chief mourner by the Glen, and received us + at the gate with a labored attempt at everyday manners. + </p> + <p> + “Ye've hed heavy traivellin', a' doot, an' ye 'ill be cauld. It's hard + weather for the sheep an' a'm thinkin' this 'ill be a feeding storm. + </p> + <p> + “There wes nae use trying tae dig oot the front door yestreen, for it wud + hae been drifted up again before morning. We've cleared awa the snow at + the back for the prayer; ye 'ill get in at the kitchen door. + </p> + <p> + “There's a puckle Dunleith men——-” + </p> + <p> + “Wha?” cried Jamie in an instant. + </p> + <p> + “Dunleith men,” said Drumsheugh. + </p> + <p> + “Div ye mean they're here, whar are they?” + </p> + <p> + “Drying themsels at the fire, an' no withoot need; ane of them gied ower + the head in a drift, and his neeburs hed tae pu' him oot. + </p> + <p> + “It took them a gude fower oors tae get across, an' it wes coorse wark; + they likit him weel doon that wy, an', Jamie, man”—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.” + </p> + <p> + “It's mair than cud be expeckit” said Jamie; “but whar dae yon men come + frae, Drumsheugh?” + </p> + <p> + Two men in plaids were descending the hill behind the doctor's cottage, + taking three feet at a stride, and carrying long staffs in their hands. + </p> + <p> + “They're Glen Urtach men, Jamie, for are o' them wes at Kildrummie fair + wi' sheep, but hoo they've wun doon passes me.” + </p> + <p> + “It canna be, Drumsheugh,” said Jamie, greatly excited. “Glen Urtach's + steikit up wi' sna like a locked door. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link151" id="link151"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/151.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="151.jpg (64K)" src="images/151.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “Ye're no surely frae the Glen, lads?” as the men leaped the dyke and + crossed to the back door, the snow falling from their plaids as they + walked. + </p> + <p> + “We're that an' nae mistak, but a' thocht we wud be lickit ae place, eh, + Charlie? a'm no sae weel acquant wi' the hill on this side, an' there wes + some kittle (hazardous) drifts.” + </p> + <p> + “It wes grand o' ye tae mak the attempt,” said Drumsheugh, “an' a'm gled + ye're safe.” + </p> + <p> + “He cam through as bad himsel' tae help ma wife,” was Charlie's reply. + </p> + <p> + “They're three mair Urtach shepherds 'ill come in by sune; they're frae + Upper Urtach an' we saw them fording the river; ma certes it took them a' + their time, for it wes up tae their waists and rinnin' like a mill lade, + but they jined hands and cam ower fine.” And the Urtach men went in to the + fire. The Glen began to arrive in twos and threes, and Jamie, from a point + of vantage at the gate, and under an appearance of utter indifference, + checked his roll till even he was satisfied. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link153" id="link153"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/153.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="153.jpg (52K)" src="images/153.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “Weelum MacLure 'ill hae the beerial he deserves in spite o' sna and + drifts; it passes a' tae see hoo they've githered frae far an' near. + </p> + <p> + “A'm thinkin' ye can colleck them for the minister noo, Drumsheugh. + A'body's here except the heich Glen, an' we mauna luke for them.” + </p> + <p> + “Dinna be sae sure o' that, Jamie. Yon's terrible like them on the road, + wi' Whinnie at their head;” and so it was, twelve in all, only old Adam + Ross absent, detained by force, being eighty-two years of age. + </p> + <p> + “It wud hae been temptin' Providence tae cross the muir,” Whinnie + explained, “and it's a fell stap roond; a' doot we're laist.” + </p> + <p> + “See, Jamie,” said Drumsheugh, as he went to the house, “gin there be ony + antern body in sicht afore we begin; we maun mak allooances the day wi' + twa feet o' sna on the grund, tae say naethin' o' drifts.” + </p> + <p> + “There's something at the turnin', an' it's no fouk; it's a machine o' + some kind or ither—maybe a bread cart that's focht its wy up.” + </p> + <p> + “Na, it's no that; there's twa horses, are afore the ither; if it's no a + dogcairt wi' twa men in the front; they 'ill be comin' tae the beerial.” + “What wud ye sae, Jamie,” Hillocks suggested, “but it micht be some o' + thae Muirtown doctors? they were awfu' chief wi' MacLure.” + </p> + <p> + “It's nae Muirtown doctors,” cried Jamie, in great exultation, “nor ony + ither doctors. A' ken thae horses, and wha's ahind them. Quick, man, + Hillocks, stop the fouk, and tell Drumsheugh tae come oot, for Lord + Kilspindie hes come up frae Muirtown Castle.” + </p> + <p> + Jamie himself slipped behind, and did not wish to be seen. + </p> + <p> + “It's the respeck he's gettin' the day frae high an' low,” was Jamie's + husky apology; “tae think o' them fetchin' their wy doon frae Glen Urtach, + and toiling roond frae the heich Glen, an' his Lordship driving through + the drifts a' the road frae Muirtown, juist tae honour Weelum MacLure's + beerial. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link156" id="link156"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/156.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="156.jpg (52K)" src="images/156.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “It's nae ceremony the day, ye may lippen tae it; it's the hert brocht the + fouk, an' ye can see it in their faces; ilka man hes his ain reason, an' + he's thinkin' on't though he's speakin' o' naethin' but the storm; he's + mindin' the day Weelum pued him out frae the jaws o' death, or the nicht + he savit the gude wife in her oor o' tribble. + </p> + <p> + “That's why they pit on their blacks this mornin' afore it wes licht, and + wrastled through the sna drifts at risk o' life. Drumtochty fouk canna say + muckle, it's an awfu' peety, and they 'ill dae their best tae show + naethin', but a' can read it a' in their een. + </p> + <p> + “But wae's me”—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”. + </p> + <p> + During Jamie's vain regret, the castle trap, bearing the marks of a wild + passage in the snow-covered wheels, a broken shaft tied with rope, a + twisted lamp, and the panting horses, pulled up between two rows of + farmers, and Drumsheugh received his lordship with evident emotion. + </p> + <p> + “Ma lord ... we never thocht o' this ... an' sic a road.” + </p> + <p> + “How are you, Drumsheugh? and how are you all this wintry day? That's how + I'm half an hour late; it took us four hours' stiff work for sixteen + miles, mostly in the drifts, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “It wes gude o' yir lordship, tae mak sic an effort, an' the hale Glen + wull be gratefu' tae ye, for ony kindness tae him is kindness tae us.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link159" id="link159"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/159.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="159.jpg (83K)" src="images/159.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “It's a bitter day, friends, and some of you are old; perhaps it might be + wise to cover your heads before I begin to pray.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Kilspindie, standing erect and grey-headed between the two old men, + replied: + </p> + <p> + “We thank you, Dr. Davidson, for your thoughtfulness; but he endured many + a storm in our service, and we are not afraid of a few minutes' cold at + his funeral.” + </p> + <p> + A look flashed round the stern faces, and was reflected from the minister, + who seemed to stand higher. + </p> + <p> + His prayer, we noticed with critical appreciation, was composed for the + occasion, and the first part was a thanksgiving to God for the life work + of our doctor, wherein each clause was a reference to his services and + sacrifices. No one moved or said Amen—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. + </p> + <p> + After which the minister prayed that we might have grace to live as this + man had done from youth to old age, not for himself, but for others, and + that we might be followed to our grave by somewhat of “that love wherewith + we mourn this day Thy servant departed.” Again the same sigh, and the + minister said Amen. The “wricht” stood in the doorway without speaking, + and four stalwart men came forward. They were the volunteers that would + lift the coffin and carry it for the first stage. One was Tammas, Annie + Mitchell's man; and another was Saunders Baxter, for whose life MacLure + had his great fight with death; and the third was the Glen Urtach shepherd + for whose wife's sake MacLure suffered a broken leg and three fractured + ribs in a drift; and the fourth, a Dunleith man, had his own reasons of + remembrance. + </p> + <p> + “He's far lichter than ye wud expeck for sae big a man—there wesna + muckle left o' him, ye see—but the road is heavy, and a'il change ye + aifter the first half mile.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye needna tribble yersel, wricht,” said the man from Glen Urtach; “the'll + be nae change in the cairryin' the day,” and Tammas was thankful some one + had saved him speaking. + </p> + <p> + Surely no funeral is like unto that of a doctor for pathos, and a peculiar + sadness fell on that company as his body was carried out who for nearly + half a century had been their help in sickness, and had beaten back death + time after time from their door. Death after all was victor, for the man + that had saved them had not been able to save himself. + </p> + <p> + As the coffin passed the stable door a horse nieghed within, and every man + looked at his neighbour. It was his old mare crying to her master. + </p> + <p> + Jamie slipped into the stable, and went up into the stall. + </p> + <p> + “Puir lass, ye're no gaen' wi' him the day, an' ye 'ill never see him + again; ye've hed yir last ride thegither, an' ye were true tae the end.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link164" id="link164"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/164.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="164.jpg (102K)" src="images/164.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + After the funeral Drumsheugh came himself for Jess, and took her to his + farm. Saunders made a bed for her with soft, dry straw, and prepared for + her supper such things as horses love. Jess would neither take food nor + rest, but moved uneasily in her stall, and seemed to be waiting for some + one that never came. No man knows what a horse or a dog understands and + feels, for God hath not given them our speech. If any footstep was heard + in the courtyard, she began to neigh, and was always looking round as the + door opened. But nothing would tempt her to eat, and in the night-time + Drumsheugh heard her crying as if she expected to be taken out for some + sudden journey. The Kildrummie veterinary came to see her, and said that + nothing could be done when it happened after this fashion with an old + horse. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link165" id="link165"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/165.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="165.jpg (68K)" src="images/165.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “A've seen it aince afore,” he said. “Gin she were a Christian instead o' + a horse, ye micht say she wes dying o' a broken hert.” + </p> + <p> + He recommended that she should be shot to end her misery, but no man could + be found in the Glen to do the deed and Jess relieved them of the trouble. + When Drumsheugh went to the stable on Monday morning, a week after Dr. + MacLure fell on sleep, Jess was resting at last, but her eyes were open + and her face turned to the door. + </p> + <p> + “She wes a' the wife he hed,” said Jamie, as he rejoined the procession, + “an' they luved ane anither weel.” + </p> + <p> + The black thread wound itself along the whiteness of the Glen, the coffin + first, with his lordship and Drumsheugh behind, and the others as they + pleased, but in closer ranks than usual, because the snow on either side + was deep, and because this was not as other funerals. They could see the + women standing at the door of every house on the hillside, and weeping, + for each family had some good reason in forty years to remember MacLure. + When Bell Baxter saw Saunders alive, and the coffin of the doctor that + saved him on her man's shoulder, she bowed her head on the dyke, and the + bairns in the village made such a wail for him they loved that the men + nearly disgraced themselves. + </p> + <p> + “A'm gled we're through that, at ony rate,” said Hillocks; “he wes awfu' + taen up wi' the bairns, conseederin' he hed nane o' his ain.” + </p> + <p> + There was only one drift on the road between his cottage and the kirkyard, + and it had been cut early that morning. Before daybreak Saunders had + roused the lads in the bothy, and they had set to work by the light of + lanterns with such good will that, when Drumsheugh came down to engineer a + circuit for the funeral, there was a fair passage, with walls of snow + twelve feet high on either side. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link168" id="link168"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/168.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="168.jpg (60K)" src="images/168.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + “Man, Saunders,” he said, “this wes a kind thocht, and rael weel dune.” + </p> + <p> + But Saunders' only reply was this: “Mony a time he's hed tae gang round; + he micht as weel hae an open road for his last traivel.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link169" id="link169"></a> <br /><br /> <a href="images/169.png">ENLARGE + TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="169.jpg (120K)" src="images/169.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + When the coffin was laid down at the mouth of the grave, the only + blackness in the white kirkyard, Tammas Mitchell did the most beautiful + thing in all his life. He knelt down and carefully wiped off the snow the + wind had blown upon the coffin, and which had covered the name, and when + he had done this he disappeared behind the others, so that Drumsheugh + could hardly find him to take a cord. For these were the eight that buried + Dr. MacLure—Lord Kilspindie at the head as landlord and Drumsheugh + at his feet as his friend; the two ministers of the parish came first on + the right and left; then Burnbrae and Hillocks of the farmers, and + Saunders and Tammas for the plowmen. So the Glen he loved laid him to + rest. + </p> + <p> + When the bedrel had finished his work and the turf had been spread, Lord + Kilspindie spoke: + </p> + <p> + “Friends of Drumtochty, it would not be right that we should part in + silence and no man say what is in every heart. We have buried the remains + of one that served this Glen with a devotion that has known no reserve, + and a kindliness that never failed, for more than forty years. I have seen + many brave men in my day, but no man in the trenches of Sebastopol carried + himself more knightly than William MacLure. You will never have heard from + his lips what I may tell you to-day, that my father secured for him a + valuable post in his younger days, and he preferred to work among his own + people; and I wished to do many things for him when he was old, but he + would have nothing for himself. He will never be forgotten while one of us + lives, and I pray that all doctors everywhere may share his spirit. If it + be your pleasure, I shall erect a cross above his grave, and shall ask my + old friend and companion Dr. Davidson, your minister, to choose the text + to be inscribed.” + </p> + <p> + “We thank you, Lord Kilspindie,” said the doctor, “for your presence with + us in our sorrow and your tribute to the memory of William MacLure, and I + choose this for his text: + </p> + <p> + “'Greater love hath no man than this,<br /> that a man lay down his life + for his friends.'” + </p> + <p> + Milton was, at that time, held in the bonds of a very bitter theology, and + his indignation was stirred by this unqualified eulogium. + </p> + <p> + “No doubt Dr. MacLure hed mony natural virtues, an' he did his wark weel, + but it wes a peety he didna mak mair profession o' releegion.” + </p> + <p> + “When William MacLure appears before the Judge, Milton,” said Lachlan + Campbell, who that day spoke his last words in public, and they were in + defence of charity, “He will not be asking him about his professions, for + the doctor's judgment hass been ready long ago; and it iss a good + judgment, and you and I will be happy men if we get the like of it. + </p> + <p> + “It is written in the Gospel, but it iss William MacLure that will not be + expecting it.” + </p> + <p> + “What is't Lachlan?” asked Jamie Soutar eagerly. + </p> + <p> + The old man, now very feeble, stood in the middle of the road, and his + face, once so hard, was softened into a winsome tenderness. + </p> + <p> + “'Come, ye blessed of My Father <br /> ... I was sick and ye visited Me.'” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> <a name="link174" id="link174"></a> <br /><br /> <a + href="images/174.png">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="174.jpg (63K)" src="images/174.jpg" width="100%" /> + </div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Doctor of the Old School, Complete +by Ian Maclaren + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL, *** + +***** This file should be named 9320-h.htm or 9320-h.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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