t the other would be at, and
afterwards understanding, turned very pale; but said as a minister he
would never be backward in reproving those whom he considered in the
wrong, whether from the pulpit or from the gravestone. Then Maskew
flies into a great passion, and pours out many vile and insolent words,
saying Mr. Glennie is in league with the smugglers and fattens on their
crimes; that the poetry is a libel; and that he, Maskew, will have the
law of him for calumny.

After that he took Grace by the arm, and bade her get hat and cape and
come with him. 'For', says he, 'I will not have thee taught any more by a
psalm-singing hypocrite that calls thy father murderer.' And all the
while he kept drawing up closer to Mr. Glennie, until the two stood very
near each other.

There was a great difference between them; the one short and blustering,
with a red face turned up; the other tall and craning down, ill-clad,
ill-fed, and pale. Maskew had in his left hand a basket, with which he
went marketing of mornings, for he made his own purchases, and liked
fish, as being cheaper than meat. He had been chaffering with the
fishwives this very day, and was bringing back his provend with him when
he visited our school.

Then he said to Mr. Glennie: 'Now, Sir Parson, the law has given into
Your fool's hands a power over this churchyard, and 'tis your trade to
stop unseemly headlines from being set up within its walls, or once set
up, to turn them out forthwith. So I give you a week's grace, and if
tomorrow sennight yon stone be not gone, I will have it up and flung in
pieces outside the wall.'

Mr. Glennie answered him in a low voice, but quite clear, so that we
could hear where we sat: 'I can neither turn the stone out myself, nor
stop you from turning it out if you so mind; but if you do this thing,
and dishonour the graveyard, there is One stronger than either you or I
that must be reckoned with.'

I knew afterwards that he meant the Almighty, but thought then that
'twas of Elzevir he spoke; and so, perhaps, did Mr. Maskew, for he fell
into a worse rage, thrust his hand in the basket, whipped out a great
sole he had there, and in a twinkling dashes it in Mr. Glennie's face,
with a 'Then, take that for an unmannerly parson, for I would not foul my
fist with your mealy chops.'

But to see that stirred my choler, for Mr. Glennie was weak as wax, and
would never have held up his hand to stop a blow, even were he strong as
Golia