the style of
old Mr Hollister's."

"I doubt you werena in the way of taking much heed of Mr Hollister's
sermons, and you can ask Mr Maxwell the meaning of his words if you are
not satisfied. What was lacking in the sermon the years will supply to
those that are to follow it. It was written at the bidding of the
doctors o' divinity at the college, was it not?"

"Yes," said Mr Maxwell with some hesitation, "it was written for them."

"Oh! they would surely be pleased with it. It was sound and sensible
and conclusive; that is, you said in it what you set out to say, and
that doesna ay happen in sermons. You'll put more heart in your
ministrations when you have been a while among us, I hope."

There was a few minutes' silence.

"There is a grave charge implied in your words, Mrs Fleming, and I fear
a true one," said the minister.

"I meant none," said Mrs Fleming earnestly. "As for your sermon, what
could you expect? It was all the work of your head, your heart had
little part in it. It was the doctors of divinity, and the lads, your
fellow-students--ilka ane o' them waiting to get a hit at you--that you
had in your mind when you were writing it, and no' the like of us poor
folk, who are needing to be guided and warned and fed. But it is a
grand thing to have a clear head, and to be able to put things in the
right way, and, according to the established rules: yon was a fine
discourse; though you seemed to take little pleasure in it yourself,
sir, I thought, as you went on."

Mr Maxwell smiled rather ruefully. "I took little pleasure in it
indeed."

"I saw that. But you have no call to be discouraged. We have the
treasure in earthen vessels, as Paul says himself. But a clear head and
a ready tongue are wonderful gifts for the Master's use, when they go
with a heart that He has made His dwelling. Have patience with
yourself. If you are the willing servant of your Master, His word is
given for your success in His work. It is Him you are to look to, and
not to yourself."

"Ay! there is comfort in that."

"It must be a great change for you coming to a place like this from the
companionship of wise men, living and dead, and you are but young and
likely to feel it. But you'll come to yourself when the strangeness
wears off. Your work lies at your hand, and plenty of it. You'll have
thraward folk to counter you, and folk kind and foolish to praise you
and your words and works, whatever they may be.