al
wounds, with dropping tears; the Holy Ghost (never perfectly realised
nor firmly adopted by Protestant imaginations) was dimly supposed to be
in the heart of each and on the lips of the minister. And over against
them was the army of the hierarchies, from the men Charles and James
Stuart, on to King Lewie and the Emperor; and the scarlet Pope, and the
muckle black devil himself, peering out the red mouth of hell in an
ecstasy of hate and hope. "One pull more!" he seemed to cry; "one pull
more, and it's done. There's only Clydesdale and the Stewartry, and the
three Bailiaries of Ayr, left for God." And with such an august
assistance of powers and principalities looking on at the last conflict
of good and evil, it was scarce possible to spare a thought to those
old, infirm, debile, _ab agendo_ devils whose holy place they were now
violating.

There might have been three hundred to four hundred present. At least
there were three hundred horses tethered for the most part in the ring;
though some of the hearers on the outskirts of the crowd stood with
their bridles in their hand, ready to mount at the first signal. The
circle of faces was strangely characteristic; long, serious, strongly
marked, the tackle standing out in the lean brown cheeks, the mouth set
and the eyes shining with a fierce enthusiasm; the shepherd, the
labouring man, and the rarer laird, stood there in their broad blue
bonnets or laced hats, and presenting an essential identity of type.
From time to time a long-drawn groan of adhesion rose in this audience,
and was propagated like a wave to the outskirts, and died away among the
keepers of the horses. It had a name; it was called "a holy groan."

A squall came up; a great volley of flying mist went out before it and
whelmed the scene; the wind stormed with a sudden fierceness that
carried away the minister's voice and twitched his tails and made him
stagger, and turned the congregation for a moment into a mere pother of
blowing plaid-ends and prancing horses, and the rain followed and was
dashed straight into their faces. Men and women panted aloud in the
shock of that violent shower-bath; the teeth were bared along all the
line in an involuntary grimace; plaids, mantles, and riding-coats were
proved vain, and the worshippers felt the water stream on their naked
flesh. The minister, reinforcing his great and shrill voice, continued
to contend against and triumph over the rising of the squall and the