Kate Carnegie and Those Ministers

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"See the mighty host advancing,
Satan leading on,"

which they regarded as recreation rather than worship.

It was also recalled for years that a pet lamb came into Donald
Menzies's barn and wandered about for a while, and Carmichael told that
pretty legend of St. Francis, how he saw a white lamb among the kids,
and burst into tears at the sight, because it reminded him of Jesus
among the sinners. Indeed, these services were very extemporaneous,
with hymns instead of psalms, and sermons without divisions.
Carmichael also allowed himself illustrations from the life around, and
even an anecdote at a time, which was all the more keenly relished that
it would have been considered a confession of weakness in a regular
sermon. He has been heard to say that he came nearer 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 ambitious Pharisees who scrambled for chief seats. Their accent
showed of what blood they both were, and that their Gaelic had still
been mercifully left them, but they did not use it because of their
perfect breeding, which taught them not to speak a foreign tongue in
this place. So the people saw Donald offer her a hymn-book and heard
her reply:

"It iss not a book that I will be using, and it will be a peety to take
it from other people;" nor would she stand at the singing, but sat very
rigid and with closed lips. When Carmichael, who had a pleasant tenor
voice and a good ear, sang a solo, then much tasted in such meetings,
she arose and left the place, and the minister thought he had never
seen anything more uncompromising than her pale set face.

[Illustration: Carmichael sang a solo.]

It was evident that she was Free Kirk and of the Highland persuasion,
which was once over-praised and then has been over-blamed, but is never
understood by the Lowland mind; and as Carmichael found that she had
come to live in a cottage at the entrance to the Lodge, he looked in on
his way home. She was sitting at a table reading the Bible, and her
face was more hostile than in the meeting; but she received him with
much politeness, dusting a chair and praying him to be seated. "You
have just come to the district to reside, I think? I hope you will
like our Glen."

"It wass here that I lived long ago, but I hef been married and away
with my mistress many years, and there are not many that will know me."

"But you are not of Drumtochty blood?" inquired the minister.

"There iss not one drop of Sassenach blood in my veins"--this with a
sudden flash. "I am a Macpherson and my husband wass a Macpherson; but
we hef served the house of Carnegie for four generations."

"You are a widow, I think, Mrs. Macpherson?" and Carmichael's voice
took a tone of sympathy. "Have you any children?"

"My husband iss dead, and I had one son, and he iss dead also; that iss
all, and I am alone;" but in her voice there was no weakening.

"Will you let me say how sorry I am?" pleaded Carmichael, "this is a
great grief, but I hope you have consolations."

"Yes, I will be having many consolations; they both died like brave men
with their face to the enemy. There were six that did not feel fery
well before Ian fell; he could do good work with the sword as well as
the bayonet, and he wass not bad with the dirk at a time."

Neither this woman nor her house were like anything in Drumtochty, for
in it there was a buffet for dishes, and a carved chest and a large
chair, all of old black oak; and above the mantelpiece two broadswords
were crossed, with a circle of war medals beneath on a velvet ground,
flanked by two old pistols.

"I suppose those arms have belonged to your people, Mrs. Macpherson;
may I look at them?"

"They are not anything to be admiring, and it wass not manners that I
should hef been boasting of my men. It iss a pleasant evening and good
for walking."

"You were at the meeting, I think?" and Carmichael tried to get nearer
this iron woman. "We were sorry you had to go out before the end. Did
you not feel at home?"

"I will not be accustomed to the theatre, and I am not liking it
instead of the church."

"But surely there was nothing worse in my singing alone than praying
alone?" and Carmichael began to argue like a Scotsman, who always
fancies that people can be convinced by logic, and forgets that many
people, Celts in especial, are ruled by their heart and not by their
head; "do you see anything wrong in one praising God aloud in a hymn,
as the Virgin Mary did?"

"It iss the Virgin Mary you will be coming to next, no doubt, and the
Cross and the Mass, like the Catholics, although I am not saying
anything against them, for my mother's cousins four times removed were
Catholics, and fery good people. But I am a Presbyterian, and do not
want the Virgin Mary."

Carmichael learned at that moment what it was to argue with a woman,
and he was to make more discoveries in that department before he came
to terms with the sex, and would have left in despair had it not been
for an inspiration of his good angel.

"Well, Mrs. Macpherson, I did n't come to argue about hymns, but to bid
you welcome to the Glen and to ask for a glass of water, for preaching
is thirsty work."

"It iss black shame I am crying on myself for sitting here and offering
you neither meat nor drink," and she was stung with regret in an
instant. "It iss a little spirits you will be tasting, and this iss
Talisker which I will be keeping for a friend, for whisky iss not for
women."

She was full of attention, but when Carmichael took milk instead of
whisky, her suspicions revived, and she eyed him again.

"You are not one of those new people I am hearing of in the Lowlands
that are wiser than the fery Apostles?"

"What people?" and Carmichael trembled for his new position.

"'Total abstainers' they will call themselves," and the contempt in her
accent was wonderful.

"No, I am not," Carmichael hastened to reassure his hostess; "but there
are worse people than abstainers in the world, and it would be better
if we had a few more. I will stick to the milk, if you please."

"You will take what you please," and she was again mollified; "but the
great ministers always had their tasting after preaching; and I hef
heard one of them say that it wass a sin to despise the Lord's mercies.
You will be taking another glass of milk and resting a little."

"This hospitality reminds me of my mother, Mrs. Macpherson."
Carmichael was still inspired, and was, indeed, now in full sail. "She
was a Highland woman, and had the Gaelic. She sometimes called me Ian
instead of John."

"When you wass preaching about the shepherd finding the sheep, I wass
wondering how you had the way to the heart, and I might have been
thinking, oh yes, I might hef known"--all the time Janet was ever
bringing something new out of the cupboard, though Carmichael only
sipped the milk. "And what wass your mother's name?"

"Farquharson; her people came from Braemar; but they are all dead now,
and I am the last of the race."

"A good clan," cried Janet, in great spirits, "and a loyal; they were
out with the Macphersons in the '45. Will you happen to know whether
your ancestor suffered?"

"That he did, for he shot an English officer dead on his doorstep, and
had to flee the country; it was not a pretty deed."

"Had the officer broken bread with him?" inquired Janet, anxiously.

"No, he had come to quarter himself and his men on him, and said
something rude about the Prince."

"Your ancestor gave him back his word like a gentleman; but he would
maybe hef to stay away for a while. Wass he of the chief's blood?"

"Oh no, just a little laird, and he lost his bit of land, and we never
saw the place again."

"He would be a Dunniewassal, and proud it iss I am to see you in my
house; and the Gaelic, will you hef some words?"

"Just the sound of it, Mrs. Macpherson," and he repeated his three
sentences, all that he had learned of his mother, who had become a
Scotswoman in her speech.

"Call me Janet, my dear; and it iss the good Gaelic your mother must
have had, and it makes my heart glad to think my minister iss a
Farquharson, by the mother's side."

"We sing nothing but Psalms at church, Mrs. . . . . Janet, so you will
be pleased, and we stand to pray and sit to sing."

"Tuts, tuts, I am not minding about a bit hime at a time from a friend,
but it iss those Lowlanders meddling with everything I do not like, and
I am hoping to hear you sing again, for it wass a fery pretty tune;"
and the smith, passing along the road when Carmichael left that
evening, heard Janet call him "my dear," and invoke a thousand
blessings on his head.

When he called again in the end of the week to cement the alliance and
secure her presence on Sabbath, Janet was polishing the swords, and was
willing enough to give their history.

"This wass my great-grandfather's, and these two nicks in the blade
were made on the dragoons at Prestonpans; and this wass my husband's
sword, for he wass sergeant-major before he died, a fery brave man,
good at the fighting and the praying too.

"Maybe I am wrong, and I do not know what you may be thinking, but
things come into my mind when I am reading the Bible, and I will be
considering that it wass maybe not so good that the Apostles were
fishing people."

"What ails you at fishermen, Janet?"

"Nothing at all but one thing; they are clever at their nets and at
religion, but I am not hearing that they can play with the sword or the
dirk.

"It wass a fery good intention that Peter had that night, no doubt, and
I will be liking him for it when he took his sword to the policeman,
but it wass a mighty poor blow. If Ian or his father had got as near
as that, it would not have been an ear that would have been missing."

"Perhaps his head," suggested Carmichael.

"He would not have been putting his nose into honest people's business
again, at any rate," and Janet nodded her head as one who could see a
downright blow that left no regrets; "it hass always made me ashamed to
read about that ear.

"It wass not possible, and it iss maybe no good speaking about it
now"--Janet felt she had a minister now she could open her mind
to--"but it would hef been better if our Lord could hef had twelve
Macphersons for His Apostles."

"You mean they would have been more brave and faithful?"

"There 'wass a price of six thousand pounds, or it might be four, put
on Cluny's head after Culloden, and the English soldiers were all up
and down the country, but I am not hearing that any clansman betrayed
his chief.

"Thirty pieces of silver wass a fery small reward for such a dirty
deed, and him one of the Chief's tail too; it wass a mistake to be
trusting to fisher folk instead of Glen's men.

"There iss something I hef wished," concluded Janet, who seemed to have
given her mind to the whole incident, "that Peter or some other man had
drawn his skean-dhu and slippit it quietly into Judas. We would hef
been respecting him fery much to-day, and it would hef been a good
lesson--oh yes, a fery good lesson--to all traitors."

As they got more confidential, Janet began to speak of signs and
dreams, and Carmichael asked her if she had the second sight.

"No; it iss not a lie I will be telling you, my dear, nor will I be
boasting. I have not got it, nor had my mother, but she heard sounds,
oh yes, and knew what wass coming to pass.

"'Janet,' she would say, 'I have heard the knock three times at the
head of the bed; it will be your Uncle Alister, and I must go to see
him before he dies.'"

"And was she--"

"Oh yes, she wass in time, and he wass expecting her; and once she saw
the shroud begin to rise on her sister, but no more; it never covered
the face before her eyes; but the knock, oh yes, many times."

"Have you known any one that could tell what was happening at a
distance, and gave warning of danger?" for the latent Celt was
awakening in Carmichael, with his love of mystery and his sense of the
unseen.

"Listen, my dear"--Janet lowered her voice as one speaking of sacred
things--"and I will tell you of Ina Macpherson, who lived to a hundred
and two, and had the vision clear and sure.

"In the great war with Russia I wass staying in the clachan of my
people, and then seven lads of our blood were with the Black Watch, and
every Sabbath the minister would pray for them and the rest of the lads
from Badenoch that were away at the fighting.

"One day Ina came into my sister's house, and she said, 'It iss danger
that I am seeing,' and my heart stood still in my bosom for fear that
it wass my own man Hamish.

"'No,' and she looked at me, 'not yet, and not to-day,' but more she
would not say about him. 'Is it my son Ronald?' my sister cried, and
Ina only looked before her. 'It's a sore travail, and round a few
black tartans I see many men in grey, pressing them hard; ochone,
ochone.'

"'It 's time to pray,' I said, and there wass a man in the clachan that
wass mighty in prayer, and we gathered into his kitchen, four and
twenty women and four men, and every one had a kinsman in the field.

"It iss this minute that I hear Dugald crying to the Almighty,
'Remember our lads, and be their help in the day of battle, and give
them the necks of their enemies,' and he might be wrestling for half an
hour, when Ina rose from her knees and said, 'The prayer is answered,
for the tartans have the field, and I see blood on Ronald, but it is
not his own.'"

"And did you ever hear--"

"Wait, my dear, and I will tell you, for the letter came from my
nephew, and this is what he wrote:

"'It wass three to one, and the gloom came on me, for I thought that I
would never see Glenfeshie again, nor the water of the loch, nor the
deer on the side of the hill. Then I wass suddenly strengthened with
all might in the inner man, and it iss five Russians that I hef killed
to my own hands.'

"And so it wass, and a letter came from his captain, who wass of
Cluny's blood, and it will be read in church, and a fery proud woman
wass my sister."

These were the stories that Janet told to her minister in the days
before the Carnegies came home, as well as afterwards, and so she
prepared him to be an easier prey to a soldier's daughter.

CHAPTER IX.

A DAUGHTER OF DEBATE.

They met under the arch of the gate, and Carmichael returned with the
Carnegies, Kate making much of him and insisting that he should stay to
luncheon.

"You are our first visitor, Mr. Carmichael, and the General says that
we need not expect more than six, so we mean to be very kind to them.
Do you live far from here?"

"Quite near--just two miles west. I happened to be passing; in fact, I
'm going down to the next parish, and I . . . I thought that I would
like to call and . . . and bid you welcome;" for Carmichael had not yet
learned the art of conversation, which stands mainly in touching
details lightly and avoiding the letter I.

"It is very cruel of you to be so honest and dispel our flattering
illusions"--Kate marvelled at his mendacity--"we supposed you had come
'anes errand'--I'm picking up Scotch--to call on your new neighbours.
Does the high road pass the Lodge?"

"Oh no; the road is eight miles further; but the Drumtochty people take
the near way through the woods; it's also much prettier. I hope you
will not forbid us, General? two people a week is all the traffic."

"Forbid them--not I," said Carnegie, laughing. "A man is not born and
bred in this parish without learning some sense. It would be a right
of way case, and Drumtochty would follow me from court to court, and
would never rest till they had gained or we were all ruined.

"Has it ever struck you, Mr. Carmichael, that one of the differences
between a Highlander and a Scot is that each has got a pet enjoyment?
With the one it's a feud, and with the other it's a lawsuit. A Scot
dearly loves a 'ganging plea.'

"No, no; Tochty woods will be open so long as Kate and I have anything
to say in the matter. The Glen and our people have not had the same
politics, but we 've lived at peace, as neighbours ought to do, with
never a lawsuit even to give a fillip to life."

"So you see, Mr. Carmichael," said Kate, "you may come and go at all
times through our territory; but it would be bare courtesy to call at
the Lodge for afternoon tea."

"Or tiffin," suggested the General; "and we can always offer curry, as
you see. My daughter has a capital recipe she wiled out of an old
Hindoo rascal that cooked for our mess. You really need not take it on
that account," as Carmichael was doing his best in much misery; "it is
only meant to keep old Indians in fair humour--not to be a test of good
manners. By the way, Janet has been sounding your praises, how have
you won her heart?"

"Oh, very easily--by having some drops of Highland blood in my veins;
and so I am forgiven all my faults, and am credited with all sorts of
excellences."

"Then the Highlanders are as clannish as ever," cried the General.
"Scotland has changed so much in the last half century that the
Highlanders might have become quite unsentimental and matter-of-fact.

"Lowland civilisation only crossed the Highland line after '45, and it
will take more than a hundred and thirty years to recast a Celt.
Scottish education and theology are only a veneer on him, and below he
has all his old instincts.

"So far as I can make out, a Celt will rather fish than plough, and be
a gamekeeper than a workman; but if he be free to follow his own way, a
genuine Highlander would rather be a soldier than anything else under
the sun."

"What better could a man be?" and Kate's eyes sparkled; "they must envy
the old times when their fathers raided the Lowlands and came home with
the booty. It's a pity everybody is so respectable now, don't you
think?"

"Certainly the police are very meddlesome," and Carmichael now devoted
himself to Kate, without pretence of including the General; "but the
spirit is not dead. A Celt is the child of generations of
cattle-stealers, and the raiding spirit is still in the blood. May I
offer an anecdote?"

"Six, if you have got so many, and they are all about Highlanders," and
Kate leant forward and nursed her knee, for they had gone into the
library.

"Last week I was passing the cattle market in Edinburgh, and a big
Highland drover stopped me, begging for a little money.

"'It iss from Lochaber I hef come with some beasties, and to-morrow I
will be walking back all the way, and it iss this night I hef no bed.
I wass considering that the gardens would be a good place for a night,
but they are telling me that the police will be disturbing me.'

"He looked so simple and honest that I gave him half-a-crown and said
that I was half a Highlander. I have three Gaelic sentences, and I
reeled them off with my best accent.

"'Got forgive me,' he said, 'for thinking you to be a Sassenach body,
and taking your money from you. You are a fery well-made man, and here
iss your silver piece, and may you always hef one in your pocket.'"

[Illustration: "Here is your silver piece."]

"'But what about your bed?'

"'Tuts, tuts, that will be all right, for I hef maybe got some six or
five notes of my own that were profit on the beasties; but it iss a
pity not to be taking anything that iss handy when a body happens to be
in the south.'"

"Capital." Kate laughed merrily, and her too rare laugh I used to
think the gayest I ever heard. "It was the only opportunity left him
of following his fathers. What a fine business it must have been,
starting from Braemar one afternoon, a dozen men well armed, and
getting down to Strathmore in the morning; then lying hid in some wood
all day, and collecting a herd of fat cattle in the evening, and
driving them up Glen Shee, not knowing when there might be a fight."

"Hard lines on the Scottish farmers, Kit, who might be very decent
fellows, to lose their cattle or get a cut from a broadsword."

"Oh, they had plenty left; and seriously, dad, without joking, you
know, what better could a Presbyterian Lowlander do than raise good
beef for Highland gentlemen? Mr. Carmichael, I beg pardon; you seem so
good a Celt, that I forgot you were not of our faith."

"We are not Catholics," the General explained, gravely, "although many
of our blood have been, and my daughter was educated in a convent. We
belong to the Episcopal Church of Scotland, and will go into Muirtown
at a time, but mostly we shall attend the kirk of my old friend Dr.
Davidson. Every man is entitled to his faith, and Miss Carnegie rather
. . ."

"Forgot herself." Kate came to her father's relief. "She often does;
but one thing Miss Carnegie remembers, and that is that General
Carnegie likes his cheroot after tiffin. Do you smoke, Mr. Carmichael?
Oh, I am allowed to stay, if you don't object, and have forgiven my
rudeness."

"You make too much of a word, Miss Carnegie." Carmichael was not a man
to take offence till his pride was roused. "Very likely my drover was
a true blue Presbyterian, and his minister as genuine a cateran as
himself.

"Years ago I made the acquaintance of an old Highland minister called
MacTavish, and he sometimes stays with me on his way north in the
spring. For thirty years he has started at the first sign of snow, and
spent winter spoiling the good people of the south. Some years he has
gone home with three hundred pounds."

"But how does he get the money?" inquired the General, "and what does
he use it for?"

"He told me the history of his campaigns when he passed in March, and
it might interest you; it's our modern raid, and although it's not so
picturesque as a foray of the Macphersons, yet it has points, and shows
the old spirit lives.

"'She wass a goot woman, Janet Cameron, oh yes, Mr. John, a fery
exercised woman, and when she wass dying she will be saying peautiful
things, and one day she will be speaking of a little field she had
beside the church.

"'"What do you think I should be doing with that piece of ground," she
will be saying, "for the end iss not far off, and it iss not earth I
can be taking with me, oh no, nor cows."

"'"No, Janet," I said, "but it iss a nice field, and lies to the sun.
It might be doing good after you are gone, if it wass not wasted on
your mother's cousins twice removed in Inverness, who will be drinking
every drop of it, and maybe going to the Moderate Kirk."

"'It wass not for two months or maybe six weeks she died, and I will be
visiting her every second day. Her experiences were fery good, and I
hef told them at sacraments in the north. The people in the south are
free with their money, but it iss not the best of my stories that I can
give them; they are too rich for their stomachs.

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