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diff --git a/old/orig9320-h/p5.htm b/old/orig9320-h/p5.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1d8c38f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/orig9320-h/p5.htm @@ -0,0 +1,691 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<title>A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL, Part 5</title> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body {margin:15%; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; text-align: center; } + img {border: 0;} + blockquote {font-size: 97%; } + .figleft {float: left;} + .figright {float: right;} + .toc { margin-left: 15%; margin-bottom: 0em;} + CENTER { padding: 10px;} + PRE { font-family: Times; font-size: 97%; margin-left: 15%;} + // --> +</style> + +</head> +<body> + +<h1>Part 5</h1> + + +<center> +<table summary="" cellPadding=4 border=3> +<tr><td> + <a href="p4.htm">Previous Part</a> +</td><td> + <a href="9320-h.htm">Main Index</a> + </td></tr> +</table> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<center> +<h1>A DOCTOR OF THE OLD SCHOOL</h1> + +<h2>by Ian Maclaren</h2> +<a name="Frontispiece"></a> + +<a href="images/Frontispiece.png"><img alt="Frontispiece.jpg (87K)" src="images/Frontispiece.jpg" height="693" width="598"></a> + +<a href="images/001.png"><img alt="001.jpg (155K)" src="images/001.jpg" height="817" width="503"></a> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> +<center> +<h1> +Part 5 +<br><br>THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN +</h1></center> + +<br><br><br><br> + +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> + + +[A click on the face of any illustration<br> +will enlarge it to full size.] +<br><br> +<a href="#Frontispiece">DR. MacLURE</a><br> +<a href="#141">BOOK V. THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN</a><br> +<a href="#143">The Tochty Ran with Black, Swollen Stream</a><br> +<a href="#145">Toiled Across the Glen</a><br> +<a href="#147">There was Nae Use Trying tae Dig Oot the Front Door</a><br> +<a href="#148">Ane of Them Gied Ower the Head in a Drift</a><br> +<a href="#151">Two Men in Plaids were Descending the Hill</a><br> +<a href="#153">Jined Hands and Cam ower Fine</a><br> +<a href="#156">Twa Horses, Ane afore the Ither</a><br> +<a href="#159">He had Left His Overcoat, and was in Black</a><br> +<a href="#164">Death after All was Victor</a><br> +<a href="#165">She Began to Neigh</a><br> +<a href="#168">They had Set to Work</a><br> +<a href="#169">Standing at the Door</a><br> +<a href="#174">Finis</a><br> + +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + + +<br><br><br><br> + +<h2> +PREFACE</h2> + +<p>It is with great good will that I write this short preface to the +edition of "A Doctor of the Old School" (which has been illustrated by +Mr. Gordon after an admirable and understanding fashion) because there +are two things that I should like to say to my readers, being also my +friends.</p> + +<p>One, is to answer a question that has been often and fairly asked. Was +there ever any doctor so self-forgetful and so utterly Christian as +William MacLure? To which I am proud to reply, on my conscience: Not one +man, but many in Scotland and in the South country. I will dare prophecy +also across the sea.</p> + +<p>It has been one man's good fortune to know four country doctors, not one +of whom was without his faults—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> + +<br><br> + + + +<a name="V"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<h1>THE MOURNING OF THE GLEN</h1> +</center> + + + + + +<a name="141"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<a href="images/141.png"><img alt="141.jpg (68K)" src="images/141.jpg" height="596" width="543"></a> +</center> + + + +<br><br> +<p>Dr. MacLure was buried during the great snowstorm which is still spoken +of, and will remain the standard of snowfall in Drumtochty for the +century. The snow was deep on the Monday, and the men that gave notice +of his funeral had hard work to reach the doctor's distant patients. +On Tuesday morning it began to fall again in heavy, fleecy flakes, and +continued till Thursday, and then on Thursday the north wind rose and +swept the snow into the hollows of the roads that went to the upland +farms, and built it into a huge bank at the mouth of Glen Urtach, and +laid it across our main roads in drifts of every size and the most +lovely shapes, and filled up crevices in the hills to the depth of fifty +feet.</p> + +<p>On Friday morning the wind had sunk to passing gusts that powdered +your coat with white, and the sun was shining on one of those winter +landscapes no townsman can imagine and no countryman ever forgets. The +Glen, from end to end and side to side, was clothed in a glistering +mantle white as no fuller on earth could white it, that flung its skirts +over the clumps of trees and scattered farmhouses, and was only divided +where the Tochty ran with black, swollen stream. The great moor rose and +fell in swelling billows of snow that arched themselves over the burns, +running deep in the mossy ground, and hid the black peat bogs with a +thin, treacherous crust.</p> + + +<a name="143"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<a href="images/143.png"><img alt="143.jpg (55K)" src="images/143.jpg" height="496" width="484"></a> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>Beyond, the hills northwards and westwards stood high in white majesty, +save where the black crags of Glen Urtach broke the line, and, above our +lower Grampians, we caught glimpses of the distant peaks that lifted +their heads in holiness unto God.</p> + +<p>It seemed to me a fitting day for William MacLure's funeral, rather than +summer time, with its flowers and golden corn. He had not been a soft +man, nor had he lived an easy life, and now he was to be laid to rest +amid the austere majesty of winter, yet in the shining of the sun. Jamie +Soutar, with whom I toiled across the Glen, did not think with me, but +was gravely concerned.</p> + +<p>"Nae doot it's a graund sicht; the like o't is no gien tae us twice in +a generation, an' nae king wes ever carried tae his tomb in sic a +cathedral.</p> + +<p>"But it's the fouk a'm conseederin', an' hoo they'll win through; it's +hard eneuch for them 'at's on the road, an' it's clean impossible for +the lave.</p> + + +<a name="145"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<a href="images/145.png"><img alt="145.jpg (85K)" src="images/145.jpg" height="698" width="470"></a> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>"They 'ill dae their best, every man o' them, ye may depend on that, +an' hed it been open weather there wudna hev been six able-bodied +men missin'.</p> + +<p>"A' wes mad at them, because they never said onything when he wes +leevin', but they felt for a' that what he hed dune, an', a' think, he +kent it afore he deed.</p> + +<p>"He hed juist ae faut, tae ma thinkin', for a' never jidged the waur +o' him for his titch of rochness—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> + + + +<a name="147"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<a href="images/147.png"><img alt="147.jpg (59K)" src="images/147.jpg" height="572" width="464"></a> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>"Ye see," said Jamie, who had been counting heads all morning, "there's +six shepherds in Glen Urtaeh—they're shut up fast; an' there micht hae +been a gude half dizen frae Dunleith wy, an' a'm telt there's nae road; +an' there's the heich Glen, nae man cud cross the muir the day, an' it's +aucht mile round;" and Jamie proceeded to review the Glen in every +detail of age, driftiness of road and strength of body, till we arrived +at the doctor's cottage, when he had settled on a reduction of fifty +through stress of weather.</p> + + + +<a name="148"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<a href="images/148.png"><img alt="148.jpg (69K)" src="images/148.jpg" height="759" width="478"></a> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>Drumsheugh was acknowledged as chief mourner by the Glen, and received +us at the gate with a labored attempt at everyday manners.</p> + +<p>"Ye've hed heavy traivellin', a' doot, an' ye 'ill be cauld. It's hard +weather for the sheep an' a'm thinkin' this 'ill be a feeding storm.</p> + +<p>"There wes nae use trying tae dig oot the front door yestreen, for it +wud hae been drifted up again before morning. We've cleared awa the snow +at the back for the prayer; ye 'ill get in at the kitchen door.</p> + +<p>"There's a puckle Dunleith men——-"</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> + + +<a name="151"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<a href="images/151.png"><img alt="151.jpg (64K)" src="images/151.jpg" height="645" width="512"></a> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>"Ye're no surely frae the Glen, lads?" as the men leaped the dyke and +crossed to the back door, the snow falling from their plaids as they +walked.</p> + +<p>"We're that an' nae mistak, but a' thocht we wud be lickit ae place, eh, +Charlie? a'm no sae weel acquant wi' the hill on this side, an' there +wes some kittle (hazardous) drifts."</p> + +<p>"It wes grand o' ye tae mak the attempt," said Drumsheugh, "an' a'm gled +ye're safe."</p> + +<p>"He cam through as bad himsel' tae help ma wife," was Charlie's reply.</p> + +<p>"They're three mair Urtach shepherds 'ill come in by sune; they're frae +Upper Urtach an' we saw them fording the river; ma certes it took them +a' their time, for it wes up tae their waists and rinnin' like a mill +lade, but they jined hands and cam ower fine." And the Urtach men went +in to the fire. The Glen began to arrive in twos and threes, and Jamie, +from a point of vantage at the gate, and under an appearance of utter +indifference, checked his roll till even he was satisfied.</p> + + +<a name="153"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<a href="images/153.png"><img alt="153.jpg (52K)" src="images/153.jpg" height="365" width="497"></a> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>"Weelum MacLure 'ill hae the beerial he deserves in spite o' sna and +drifts; it passes a' tae see hoo they've githered frae far an' near.</p> + +<p>"A'm thinkin' ye can colleck them for the minister noo, Drumsheugh. +A'body's here except the heich Glen, an' we mauna luke for them."</p> + +<p>"Dinna be sae sure o' that, Jamie. Yon's terrible like them on the road, +wi' Whinnie at their head;" and so it was, twelve in all, only old Adam +Ross absent, detained by force, being eighty-two years of age.</p> + +<p>"It wud hae been temptin' Providence tae cross the muir," Whinnie +explained, "and it's a fell stap roond; a' doot we're laist."</p> + +<p>"See, Jamie," said Drumsheugh, as he went to the house, "gin there be +ony antern body in sicht afore we begin; we maun mak allooances the day +wi' twa feet o' sna on the grund, tae say naethin' o' drifts."</p> + +<p>"There's something at the turnin', an' it's no fouk; it's a machine o' +some kind or ither—maybe a bread cart that's focht its wy up."</p> + +<p>"Na, it's no that; there's twa horses, are afore the ither; if it's no a +dogcairt wi' twa men in the front; they 'ill be comin' tae the beerial." +"What wud ye sae, Jamie," Hillocks suggested, "but it micht be some o' +thae Muirtown doctors? they were awfu' chief wi' MacLure."</p> + +<p>"It's nae Muirtown doctors," cried Jamie, in great exultation, "nor ony +ither doctors. A' ken thae horses, and wha's ahind them. Quick, man, +Hillocks, stop the fouk, and tell Drumsheugh tae come oot, for Lord +Kilspindie hes come up frae Muirtown Castle."</p> + +<p>Jamie himself slipped behind, and did not wish to be seen.</p> + +<p>"It's the respeck he's gettin' the day frae high an' low," was Jamie's +husky apology; "tae think o' them fetchin' their wy doon frae Glen +Urtach, and toiling roond frae the heich Glen, an' his Lordship driving +through the drifts a' the road frae Muirtown, juist tae honour Weelum +MacLure's beerial.</p> + + +<a name="156"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<a href="images/156.png"><img alt="156.jpg (52K)" src="images/156.jpg" height="598" width="409"></a> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>"It's nae ceremony the day, ye may lippen tae it; it's the hert brocht +the fouk, an' ye can see it in their faces; ilka man hes his ain +reason, an' he's thinkin' on't though he's speakin' o' naethin' but the +storm; he's mindin' the day Weelum pued him out frae the jaws o' death, +or the nicht he savit the gude wife in her oor o' tribble.</p> + +<p>"That's why they pit on their blacks this mornin' afore it wes licht, +and wrastled through the sna drifts at risk o' life. Drumtochty fouk +canna say muckle, it's an awfu' peety, and they 'ill dae their best tae +show naethin', but a' can read it a' in their een.</p> + +<p>"But wae's me"—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> + + + +<a name="159"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<a href="images/159.png"><img alt="159.jpg (83K)" src="images/159.jpg" height="739" width="392"></a> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>"You make too much of it, Drumsheugh," and the clear, firm voice was +heard of all; "it would have taken more than a few snow drifts to keep +me from showing my respect to William MacLure's memory." When all had +gathered in a half circle before the kitchen door, Lord Kilspindie came +out—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> + + + +<a name="164"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<a href="images/164.png"><img alt="164.jpg (102K)" src="images/164.jpg" height="709" width="473"></a> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>After the funeral Drumsheugh came himself for Jess, and took her to his +farm. Saunders made a bed for her with soft, dry straw, and prepared for +her supper such things as horses love. Jess would neither take food nor +rest, but moved uneasily in her stall, and seemed to be waiting for some +one that never came. No man knows what a horse or a dog understands and +feels, for God hath not given them our speech. If any footstep was heard +in the courtyard, she began to neigh, and was always looking round as +the door opened. But nothing would tempt her to eat, and in the +night-time Drumsheugh heard her crying as if she expected to be taken out for +some sudden journey. The Kildrummie veterinary came to see her, and said +that nothing could be done when it happened after this fashion with an +old horse.</p> + + + +<a name="165"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<a href="images/165.png"><img alt="165.jpg (68K)" src="images/165.jpg" height="378" width="448"></a> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>"A've seen it aince afore," he said. "Gin she were a Christian instead +o' a horse, ye micht say she wes dying o' a broken hert."</p> + +<p>He recommended that she should be shot to end her misery, but no man +could be found in the Glen to do the deed and Jess relieved them of the +trouble. When Drumsheugh went to the stable on Monday morning, a week +after Dr. MacLure fell on sleep, Jess was resting at last, but her eyes +were open and her face turned to the door.</p> + +<p>"She wes a' the wife he hed," said Jamie, as he rejoined the procession, +"an' they luved ane anither weel."</p> + +<p>The black thread wound itself along the whiteness of the Glen, the +coffin first, with his lordship and Drumsheugh behind, and the others as +they pleased, but in closer ranks than usual, because the snow on either +side was deep, and because this was not as other funerals. They could +see the women standing at the door of every house on the hillside, and +weeping, for each family had some good reason in forty years to remember +MacLure. When Bell Baxter saw Saunders alive, and the coffin of the +doctor that saved him on her man's shoulder, she bowed her head on the +dyke, and the bairns in the village made such a wail for him they loved +that the men nearly disgraced themselves.</p> + +<p>"A'm gled we're through that, at ony rate," said Hillocks; "he wes awfu' +taen up wi' the bairns, conseederin' he hed nane o' his ain."</p> + +<p>There was only one drift on the road between his cottage and the +kirkyard, and it had been cut early that morning. Before daybreak +Saunders had roused the lads in the bothy, and they had set to work by +the light of lanterns with such good will that, when Drumsheugh came +down to engineer a circuit for the funeral, there was a fair passage, +with walls of snow twelve feet high on either side.</p> + + +<a name="168"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<a href="images/168.png"><img alt="168.jpg (60K)" src="images/168.jpg" height="348" width="480"></a> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>"Man, Saunders," he said, "this wes a kind thocht, and rael weel dune."</p> + +<p>But Saunders' only reply was this: "Mony a time he's hed tae gang +round; he micht as weel hae an open road for his last traivel."</p> + + + +<a name="169"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<a href="images/169.png"><img alt="169.jpg (120K)" src="images/169.jpg" height="721" width="516"></a> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>When the coffin was laid down at the mouth of the grave, the only +blackness in the white kirkyard, Tammas Mitchell did the most beautiful +thing in all his life. He knelt down and carefully wiped off the snow +the wind had blown upon the coffin, and which had covered the name, +and when he had done this he disappeared behind the others, so that +Drumsheugh could hardly find him to take a cord. For these were the +eight that buried Dr. MacLure—Lord Kilspindie at the head as landlord +and Drumsheugh at his feet as his friend; the two ministers of the +parish came first on the right and left; then Burnbrae and Hillocks of +the farmers, and Saunders and Tammas for the plowmen. So the Glen he +loved laid him to rest.</p> + +<p>When the bedrel had finished his work and the turf had been spread, Lord +Kilspindie spoke:</p> + +<p>"Friends of Drumtochty, it would not be right that we should part in +silence and no man say what is in every heart. We have buried the +remains of one that served this Glen with a devotion that has known no +reserve, and a kindliness that never failed, for more than forty years. +I have seen many brave men in my day, but no man in the trenches of +Sebastopol carried himself more knightly than William MacLure. You will +never have heard from his lips what I may tell you to-day, that my +father secured for him a valuable post in his younger days, and he +preferred to work among his own people; and I wished to do many things +for him when he was old, but he would have nothing for himself. He will +never be forgotten while one of us lives, and I pray that all doctors +everywhere may share his spirit. If it be your pleasure, I shall erect +a cross above his grave, and shall ask my old friend and companion Dr. +Davidson, your minister, to choose the text to be inscribed."</p> + +<p>"We thank you, Lord Kilspindie," said the doctor, "for your presence +with us in our sorrow and your tribute to the memory of William MacLure, +and I choose this for his text:</p> + +<center> +<table summary="poem"> +<tr><td> +<p> "'Greater love hath no man than this,<br> + that a man lay down his life for his friends.'"</p> +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + +<p>Milton was, at that time, held in the bonds of a very bitter theology, +and his indignation was stirred by this unqualified eulogium.</p> + +<p>"No doubt Dr. MacLure hed mony natural virtues, an' he did his wark +weel, but it wes a peety he didna mak mair profession o' releegion."</p> + +<p>"When William MacLure appears before the Judge, Milton," said Lachlan +Campbell, who that day spoke his last words in public, and they were in +defence of charity, "He will not be asking him about his professions, +for the doctor's judgment hass been ready long ago; and it iss a good +judgment, and you and I will be happy men if we get the like of it.</p> + +<p>"It is written in the Gospel, but it iss William MacLure that will not +be expecting it."</p> + +<p>"What is't Lachlan?" asked Jamie Soutar eagerly.</p> + +<p>The old man, now very feeble, stood in the middle of the road, and his +face, once so hard, was softened into a winsome tenderness.</p> +<center> +<table summary="poem"> +<tr><td> +<p> "'Come, ye blessed of My Father <br> + ... I was sick and ye visited Me.'"</p> +</td></tr> +</table> + </center> + + +<br><br> +<a name="174"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<a href="images/174.png"><img alt="174.jpg (63K)" src="images/174.jpg" height="468" width="521"></a> +</center> + + +<br><br> + + + + + +<center> +<table summary="" cellPadding=4 border=3> +<tr><td> + <a href="p4.htm">Previous Part</a> +</td><td> + <a href="9320-h.htm">Main Index</a> + </td></tr> +</table> +</center> + + +</body> +</html> + |