"That might have occurred to you before you forsook the parish church," said the schoolmaster, with a smile.

"But there was nae speeritooal noorishment to be gotten i' that houff (haunt)," said Jeames Gentle.

"How did you come to know the want of it?"

"Ow, that cam frae the speerit himsel'-what else?" replied Gentle.

"By what means?"

"By the readin' o' the word an' by prayer," answered Gentle.

"By his ain v'ice i' the hert," said Bow o' meal.

"Then a public a.s.sembly is not necessary for the communication of the gifts of the spirit?"

They were silent.

"Isn't it possible that the eagerness after such a.s.semblies may have something to do with a want of confidence in what the Lord says of his kingdom--that it spreads like the hidden leaven-- grows like the buried seed? My own conviction is, that if a man would but bend his energies to live, if he would but try to be a true, that is, a G.o.dlike man, in all his dealings with his fellows, a genuine neighbour and not a selfish unit, he would open such channels for the flow of the spirit as no amount of even honest and so called successful preaching could."

"Wha but ane was ever fit to lead sic a life 's that?"

"All might be trying after it. In proportion as our candle burns it will give light. No talking about light will supply the lack of its presence either to the talker or the listeners."

"There 's a heap made o' the preachin' o' the word i' the buik itsel'," said Peter with emphasis.

"Undoubtedly. But just look at our Lord: he never stopped living amongst his people--hasn't stopped yet; but he often refused to preach, and personally has given it up altogether now."

"Ay, but ye see he kent what he was duin'."

"And so will every man in proportion as he partakes of his spirit."

"But dinna ye believe there is sic a thing as gettin' a call to the preachin'?"

"I do; but even then a man's work is of worth only as it supplements his life. A network of spiritual fibres connects the two, makes one of them."

"But surely, sir, them 'at 's o' the same min' oucht to meet an'

stir ane anither up? 'They that feart the Lord spak aften thegither,'

ye ken."

"What should prevent them? Why should not such as delight in each other's society, meet, and talk, and pray together,--address each the others if they like? There is plenty of opportunity for that, without forsaking the church or calling public meetings. To continue your quotation--'The Lord hearkened and heard:' observe, the Lord is not here said to hearken to sermons or prayers, but to the talk of his people. This would have saved you from false relations with men that oppose themselves, caring nothing for the truth--perhaps eager to save their souls, nothing more at the very best."

"Sir! sir! what wad ye hae? Daur ye say it's no a body's first duty to save his ain sowl alive?" exclaimed Bow o' meal.

"I daur't--but there 's little daur intill 't!" said Mr Graham, breaking into Scotch.

Bow o' meal rose from his chair in indignation, Blue Peter made a grasp at his bonnet, and Jeames Gentle gave a loud sigh of commiseration.

"I allow it to be a very essential piece of prudence," added the schoolmaster, resuming his quieter English--"but the first duty!

--no. The Catechism might have taught you better than that! To mind his chief end must surely be man's first duty; and the Catechism says-. 'Man's chief end is to glorify G.o.d.'"

"And to enjoy him for ever," supplemented Peter.

"That 's a safe consequence. There's no fear of the second if he does the first. Anyhow he cannot enjoy him for ever this moment, and he can glorify him at once."

"Ay, but hoo?" said Bow o' meal, ready to swoop upon the master's reply.

"Just as Jesus Christ did--by doing his will--by obedience."

"That's no faith--it's works! Ye'll never save yer sowl that gait."

"No man can ever save his soul. G.o.d only can do that. You can glorify him by giving yourself up heart and soul and body and life to his Son. Then you shall be saved. That you must leave to him, and do what he tells you. There will be no fear of the saving then --though it 's not an easy matter--even for him, as has been sorely proved."

"An' hoo are we to gie oorsel's up till him?--for ye see we're practical kin' o' fowk, huz fisher fowk, Maister Graham," said Bow o' meal.

The tone implied that the schoolmaster was not practical.

"I say again--In doing his will and not your own."

"An' what may his wull be?"

"Is he not telling you himself at this moment? Do you not know what his will is? How should I come between him and you! For anything I know, it may be that you pay your next door neighbour a crown you owe him, or make an apology to the one on the other side. I do not know: you do."

"Dinna ye think aboot savin' yer ain sowl noo, Maister Graham?"

said Bow o' meal, returning on their track.

"No, I don't. I've forgotten all about that. I only desire and pray to do the will of my G.o.d--which is all in all to me."

"What say ye than aboot the sowls o' ither fowk? Wadna ye save them, no?"

"Gladly would I save them--but according to the will of G.o.d. If I were, even unwittingly, to attempt it in any other way, I should be casting stumbling blocks in their path, and separating myself from my G.o.d--doing that which is not of faith, and therefore is sin. It is only where a man is at one with G.o.d that he can do the right thing or take the right way. Whatever springs from any other source than the spirit that dwelt in Jesus, is of sin, and works to thwart the divine will. Who knows what harm may be done to a man by hurrying a spiritual process in him?"

"I doobt, sir, gien yer doctrine was to get a hearin', there wad be unco little dune for the glory o' G.o.d i' this place!" remarked Bow o' meal, with sententious reproof.

"But what was done would be of the right sort, and surpa.s.singly powerful."

"Weel, to come back to the business in han'--what wad be yer advice?" said Bow o' meal.

"That's a thing none but a lawyer should give. I have shown you what seem to me the principles involved: I can do no more."

"Ye dinna ca' that neebourly, whan a body comes speirin' 't?"

"Are you prepared then to take my advice?"

"Ye wadna hae a body du that aforehan'! We micht as weel a' be Papists, an' believe as we 're tauld."

"Precisely so. But you can exercise your judgment upon the principles whereon my opinion is founded, with far more benefit than upon my opinion itself--which I cannot well wish you to adopt, seeing I think it far better for a man to go wrong upon his own honest judgment, than to go right upon anybody else's judgment, however honest also."

"Ye hae a heap o' queer doctrines, sir."