A thick-set body little over four and a half feet high, exceedingly thick and stout, was surmounted with one of the most curious heads the minister had ever seen. He saw a round apple face, eyes of extraordinary brightness, a thin-lipped mouth which seemed to meander half-way round the head as if uncertain where to stop. Betsy had arrayed this "object"

in a pink bed-gown of her own, a pair of the minister's trousers turned up nearly to the knee in a roll the thickness of a man's wrist, and one of the minister's new-fangled M.B. waistcoats, through the armholes of which two very long arms escaped, clad as far as the elbows in the sleeves of the pink bed-gown.

Happily the minister was wholly dest.i.tute of a sense of humour (and therefore clearly marked for promotion in the Church); and the privation stood him in good stead now. It only struck him as a little irregular to be sitting in the study with a person so attired. But he thought to himself--"After all, he may be one of My People."

"And what can I do for you?" he said kindly, when the Object was seated opposite to him on the very edge of a large arm-chair, the pink arms laid like weapons of warfare upon his knees, and the broad hands warming themselves in a curious unattached manner at the fire.

"Ye see, sir," began the Object, "I am Seemion Gleg, an' I am ettlin' to be a minister."

The Reverend Robert Ford Buchanan started. He came of a Levitical family, and over his head there were a series of portraits of very dignified gentlemen in extensive white neckerchiefs, his forebears and predecessors in honourable office--a knee-breeched, lace-ruffled moderator among them.

It was as if a Prince of the Blood had listened to some rudely democratic speech from a waif of the causeway.

"A minister!" he exclaimed. Then, as a thought flashed across him--"Oh, a Dissenting preacher!" he continued.

This would explain matters.

"Na, na," said Simeon Gleg; "nae Dissenter ava'. I'm for the Kirk itsel'--the Auld Kirk or naething. That was the way my mither brocht me up. An' I want to learn Greek an' Laitin. I hae plenty o' spare time, an' my maister gies me a' the forenichts. I can learn at the peat fire after the ither men are gane to their beds."

"Your master!" said the minister. "Do you mean your teacher?"

"Na, na," said Simeon Gleg; "I mean Maister Golder o' the Glaisters. I serve there as plooman!"

"You!" exclaimed the minister, aghast. "How old may you be?"

"I'm gaun in my nineteenth year," said Simeon. "I'm no' big for my age, I ken; but I can throw ony man that I get grups on, and haud ony beast whatsomever. I can ploo wi' the best an' maw--Weel, I'm no' gaun to brag, but ye can ask Maister Golder--that is an elder o' your ain, an'

comes at least twa Sabbaths afore every Communion to hear ye."

"But why do ye want to learn Greek and Latin?" queried the minister.

"Weel, ye see, sir," said Simeon Gleg, leaning forward to poke the manse fire with the toe of his stocking--the minister watching with interest to see if he could do it without burning the wool--"I hae saved t.w.u.n.ty pounds, and I thocht o' layin' it oot on the improvement o' my mind.

It's a heap o' money, I ken; but, then, my mind needs a f.e.c.k o'

impruvement--if ye but kenned hoo ignorant I am, ye wadna wonder. Ay, ay"--taking, as it were, a survey of the whole ground--"my mind will stand a deal o' impruvement. It's gey rough, whinny grund, and has never been turned owre. But I was thinkin' Enbra wad gie it a rare bit lift.

What do ye think o' the professors there? I was hearin' some o' them wasna thocht muckle o'!"

The minister moved a little uneasily in his chair, and settled his circular collar.

"Well," he said, "they are able men--most of them."

He was a cautious minister.

"Dod, an' I'm gled to hear ye sayin' that. It's a relief to my mind,"

said Simeon Gleg. "I dinna want to fling my t.w.u.n.ty pound into the mill-dam."

"But I understood you to say," went on the minister, "that you intended to enter the ministry of the Kirk."

"Ou ay, that's nae dout my ettlin'. But that's a lang gate to gang, an'

in the meantime my object in gaun to the college is juist the cultivation o' my mind."

The wondrous apple-faced ploughboy in the red-sleeved bed-gown looked thoughtfully at the palms of his h.o.r.n.y hands as he reeled off this sentence. But he had more to say.

"I think Greek and Laitin wull be the best way. t.w.u.n.ty pounds'

worth--seven for fees an' the rest for providin'. But my mither says she'll gie me a braxy ham or twa, an' a crock o' b.u.t.ter."

"But what do you know?" asked the minister. "Have you begun the languages?"

Simeon Gleg wrestled a moment with the M.B. waistcoat, and from the inside of it he extricated two books.

"This," he said, "is Melvin's Laitin Exercises, an' I hae the Rudiments at hame. I hae been through them twice. An' this is the Academy Greek Rudiments. O man--I mean, O minister"--he broke out earnestly, "gin ye wad juist gie the letters a bit rin owre. I dinna ken hoo to mak' them soond!"

The minister ran over the Greek letters.

The eyes of Simeon Gleg were upturned in heartfelt thankfulness. His long arms danced convulsively upon his knees. He shot out his red-knotted fingers till they cracked with delight.

"Man, man, an' that's the soond o' them! It's awsome queer! But, O, it's bonny, bonny! There's nocht like the Greek and the Laitin!"

Now, there were many more brilliant ministers in Scotland than the minister of Blawrinnie, but none kindlier; and in a few minutes he had offered to give Simeon Gleg two nights a week in the dead languages.

Simeon quivered with the mighty words of thankfulness that rose to his Adam's apple, but which would not come further. He took the minister's hand.

"Oh, sir," he said, "I canna thank ye! I haena words fittin'! Gin I had the Greek and Laitin, I wad ken what to say till ye--"

"Never mind, Simeon; do not say a word. I understand all about it,"

replied the minister warmly.

Simeon still lingered undecided. He was now standing in the M.B.

waistcoat and the pink bed-gown. The sleeves were more obtrusive than ever. The minister was reminded of his official duties. He said tentatively--

"Ah--would you--perhaps you would like me to give you a word of advice, or--ah--perhaps to engage in prayer?"

These were things usually expected in Blawrinnie.

"Na, na!" cried Simeon eagerly. "No' that! But, O minister, ye micht gie thae letters anither skelp owre--aboot _Alfy, Betaw, Gaumaw_!"

The minister took the Greek Rudiments again without a smile, and read the alphabet slowly and with unction, as if it were his first chapter on the Sabbath morning--and a full kirk.

Simeon Gleg stood by, looking up and clasping his hands in ecstasy.

"O Lord," he said, "help me keep mind o' it! It's just like the kingdom o' heaven! Greek an' Laitin's the thing! There's nae mistak', Greek and Laitin's the thing!"

Then on the doorstep he turned, after Betsy had reclad him in his dry clothes and lent him the minister's third best umbrella.

This was Simeon Gleg's good-bye to the minister--

"t.w.u.n.ty pound is a dreadfu' heap o' siller; but, O minister, my mind 'ill stand an awfu' sicht o' impruvement! It'll no' be a penny owre muckle!"

IV