er the heart of
things once or twice in the barns than he has ever done since, not even
excepting that famous course of sermons every one talked about last
year, the "Analysis of Doubt," which almost converted two professors to
Christianity, and were heard by the editor of the _Caledonian_ in the
disguise of a street preacher. It was also pleasantly remembered for
long in the parish that Dr. Davidson appeared one evening in Donald
Menzies's barn and joined affably in the "Sweet By-and-Bye."
Afterward, being supplied with a large arm-chair, he heard the address
with much attention--nodding approval four times, if not five--and
pronouncing the benediction with such impressiveness that Donald felt
some hesitation in thrashing his last stack in the place next day. The
Doctor followed up this visit with an exhortation from the pulpit on
the following Sabbath, in which he carefully distinguished such
services by an ordained minister, although held in a barn, from
unlicensed Plymouthistic gatherings held in corn rooms--this at
Milton's amateur efforts--and advised his people in each district to
avail themselves of "my friend Mr. Carmichael's excellent
ministrations," which Papal Bull, being distributed to the furthest
corner of the parish before nightfall, greatly lifted the Free Kirk and
sweetened the blood of the Glen for years. It seemed to me, watching
things in Drumtochty during those days with an impartial mind, that the
Doctor, with his care for the poor, his sympathy for the oppressed, his
interest in everything human, his shrewd practical wisdom, and his wide
toleration, was the very ideal of the parish clergyman. He showed me
much courtesy while I lived in the Cottage, although I did not belong
to his communion, and as my imagination reconstructs the old parish of
a winter night by the fire, I miss him as he used to be on the road, in
the people's homes, in his pulpit, among his books--ever an honourable
and kind-hearted gentleman.

One evening a woman came into Donald Menzies's barn just before the
hour of service, elderly, most careful in her widow's dress, somewhat
austere in expression, but very courteous in her manner. No one
recognised her at the time, but she was suspected to be the forerunner
of the Carnegie household, and Donald offered her a front seat. She
thanked him for his good-will, but asked for a lower place, greatly
delighting him by a reference to the parable wherein the Master rebuked
the a