ing among fields; and came down at last by the
water-side, where the manse stands solitary between the river and the
road. He tapped at the back door, and the old woman called upon him to
come in, and guided him through the house to the study, as they still
called it, though there was little enough study there in Haddo's days,
and more song-books than theology.

"Here's yin to speak wi' ye, Mr. Haddie!" cries the old wife.

And M'Brair, opening the door and entering, found the little, round, red
man seated in one chair and his feet upon another. A clear fire and a
tallow dip lighted him barely. He was taking tobacco in a pipe, and
smiling to himself; and a brandy-bottle and glass, and his fiddle and
bow, were beside him on the table.

"Hech, Patey M'Brair, is this you?" said he, a trifle tipsily. "Step in
by, man, and have a drop brandy: for the stomach's sake! Even the deil
can quote Scripture--eh, Patey?"

"I will neither eat nor drink with you," replied M'Brair. "I am come
upon my Master's errand! woe be upon me if I should anyways mince the
same. Hall Haddo, I summon you to quit this kirk which you encumber."

"Muckle obleeged!" says Haddo, winking.

"You and me have been to kirk and market together," pursued M'Brair; "we
have had blessed seasons in the kirk, we have sat in the same
teaching-rooms and read in the same book; and I know you still retain
for me some carnal kindness. It would be my shame if I denied it; I live
here at your mercy and by your favour, and glory to acknowledge it. You
have pity on my wretched body, which is but grass, and must soon be
trodden under: but O, Haddo! how much greater is the yearning with which
I yearn after and pity your immortal soul! Come now, let us reason
together! I drop all points of controversy, weighty though these be; I
take your defaced and damnified kirk on your own terms; and I ask you,
Are you a worthy minister? The communion season approaches; how can you
pronounce thir solemn words, 'The elders will now bring forrit the
elements,' and not quail? A parishioner may be summoned to-night; you
may have to rise from your miserable orgies; and I ask you, Haddo, what
does your conscience tell you? Are you fit? Are you fit to smooth the
pillow of a parting Christian? And if the summons should be for
yourself, how then?"

Haddo was startled out of all composure and the better part of his
temper. "What's this of it?" he cried. "I'm no waur than my neebours. I
never