taken his turn, with the result
that his stone lay foremost in the final heat by an inch exactly.
MacLure saw them kneeling together to measure, the Free Kirk minister
and the ploughmen all in a bunch, and went on his way rejoicing to tell
the Free Kirk folk that their new minister was a man of his hands. His
hair was fair, just touched with gold, and he wore it rather long, so
that in the excitement of preaching a lock sometimes fell down on his
forehead, which he would throw back with a toss of his head--a gesture
Mrs. Macfadyen, our critic, thought very taking. His dark blue eyes
used to enlarge with passion in the Sacrament and grow so tender, the
healthy tan disappeared and left his cheeks so white, that the mothers
were terrified lest he should die early, and sent offerings of cream on
Monday morning. For though his name was Carmichael, he had Celtic
blood in him, and was full of all kinds of emotion, but mostly those
that were brave and pure and true. He had done well at the University,
and was inclined to be philosophical, for he knew little of himself and
nothing of the world. There were times when he allowed himself to be
supercilious and sarcastic; but it was not for an occasional jingle of
cleverness the people loved him, or, for that matter, any other man.
It was his humanity that won their hearts, and this he had partly from
his mother, partly from his training. Through a kind providence and
his mother's countryness, he had been brought up among animals--birds,
mice, dormice, guinea-pigs, rabbits, dogs, cattle, horses, till he knew
all their ways, and loved God's creatures as did St. Francis d'Assisi,
to whom every creature of God was dear, from Sister Swallow to Brother
Wolf. So he learned, as he grew older, to love men and women and
little children, even although they might be ugly, or stupid, or
bad-tempered, or even wicked, and this sympathy cleansed away many a
little fault of pride and self-conceit and impatience and hot temper,
and in the end of the days made a man of John Carmichael. The dumb
animals had an instinct about this young fellow, and would make
overtures to him that were a certificate for any situation requiring
character. Horses by the wayside neighed at his approach, and
stretched out their velvet muzzles to be stroked. Dogs insisted upon
sitting on his knees, unless quite prevented by their size, and then
they put their paws on his chest. Hillocks was utterly scandalised by