No More Learning

« Them 'at has got sae mony blessin's mair than the gener-
ality,” Hendry said to me one day, when Craigiebuckle had given
me a lift into Thrums, “has nae shame if they would pray aye
for mair. The Lord has gi'en this hoose sae muckle, 'at to pray
for mair looks like no bein' thankfu' for what we've got. Ay,
but I canna help prayin' to Him 'at in His great mercy he'll tak
Jess afore me. Noo 'at Leeby's gone, an' Jamie never lets us
hear frae him, I canna gulp doon the thocht o' Jess bein' left
alane. "
This was a prayer that Hendry may be pardoned for having
so often in his heart, though God did not think fit to grant it.


## p. 1592 (#390) ###########################################

1592
JAMES MATTHEW BARRIE
In Thrums, when a weaver died, his women-folk had to take his
seat at the loom, and those who, by reason of infirmities, could
not do so, went to a place, the name of which, I thank God, I
am not compelled to write in this chapter. I could not, even at
this day, have told any episode in the life of Jess had it ended
in the poor house.
Hendry would probably have recovered from the fever had
not this terrible dread darkened his intellect when he was still
prostrate. He was lying in the kitchen when I saw him last in
life, and his parting words must be sadder to the reader than
they were to me.
“Ay, richt ye are,” he said, in a voice that had become a
child's; "I hae muckle, muckle to be thankfu' for, an' no the
least is 'at baith me an' Jess has aye belonged to a bural society.
We hae nae cause to be anxious aboot a' thing bein' dune respect-
able aince we're gone. It was Jess 'at insisted on oor joinin':
a' the wisest things I ever did I was put up to by her. ”
I parted from Hendry, cheered by the doctor's report, but
the old weaver died a few days afterward. His end was mourn-
ful, yet I can recall it now as the not unworthy close of a good
man's life. One night poor worn Jess had been helped ben
into the room, Tibbie Birse having undertaken to sit up with
Hendry.
Jess slept for the first time for many days, and as the night
was dying Tibbie fell asleep too. Hendry had been better than
usual, lying quietly, Tibbie said, and the fever was gone. About
three o'clock Tibbie woke and rose to mend the fire. Then she
saw that Hendry was not in his bed.
Tibbie went ben the house in her stocking soles, but Jess
heard her.
«What ist, Tibbie ? ” she asked, anxiously.
“Ou, it's no naething,” Tibbie said; "he's lyin' rale quiet. ”
Then she went up to the attic. Hendry was not in the
house.
She opened the door gently and stole out. It was not snow-
ing, but there had been a heavy fall two days before, and the
night was windy. A tearing gale had blown the upper part of
the brae clear, and from T'nowhead's fields the snow was rising
like smoke. Tibbie ran to the farm and woke up T'nowhead.
For an hour they looked in vain for Hendry. At last some
one asked who was working in Elshioner's shop all night. This


## p. 1593 (#391) ###########################################

JAMES MATTHEW BARRIE
1593
was the long earthen-floored room in which Hendry's loom stood
with three others.
“It'll be Sanders Whamond likely,” T'nowhead said, and the
other men nodded.
But it happened that Tinowhead's Bell, who had flung on a
wrapper, and hastened across to sit with Jess, heard of the light
in Elshioner's shop.
“It's Hendry,” she cried; and then every one moved toward
the workshop.
The light at the diminutive, darn-covered window was pale
and dim, but Bell, who was at the house first, could make the
most of a cruizey's glimmer.
“It's him,” she said; and then, with swelling throat, she ran
back to Jess.
The door of the workshop was wide open, held against the
wall by the wind. T'nowhead and the others went in. The
cruizey stood on the little window. Hendry's back was to the
door, and he was leaning forward on the silent loom. He had
been dead for some time, but his fellow-workers saw that he
must have weaved for nearly an hour.
So it came about that for the last few months of her pilgrim-
age Jess was left alone. Yet I may not say that she was alone.
Jamie, who should have been with her, was undergoing his own
ordeal far away; where,
not now even know. But
though the poorhouse stands in Thrums, where all may see it,
the neighbors did not think only of themselves.
Than Tammas Haggart there can scarcely have been a poorer
man, but Tammas was the first to come forward with offer of
help. To the day of Jess's death he did not once fail to carry
her water to her in the morning, and the luxuriously living men
of Thrums in these present days of pumps at every corner, can
hardly realize what that meant. Often there were lines of people
at the well by three o'clock in the morning, and each had to
wait his turn. Tammas filled his own pitcher and pan, and then
had to take his place at the end of the line with Jess's pitcher
and pan, to wait his turn again. His own house was in the
Tenements, far from the brae in winter time, but he always said
to Jess it was “naething ava. ”
Every Saturday old Robbie Angus sent a bag of sticks and
shavings from the sawmill by his little son Rob, who was after-
ward to become a man for speaking about at nights. Of all the
we did


## p. 1594 (#392) ###########################################

1594
JAMES MATTHEW BARRIE
(C
friends that Jess and Hendry had, T'nowhead was the ablest to
help, and the sweetest memory I have of the farmer and his
wife is the delicate way they offered it. You who read will see
Jess wince at the offer of charity. But the poor have fine feel-
ings beneath the grime, as you will discover if you care to look
for them; and when Jess said she would bake if anyone would
buy, you would wonder to hear how many kindly folk came to
her door for scones.
She had the house to herself at nights, but Tibbie Birse was
with her early in the morning, and other neighbors dropped in.
Not for long did she have to wait the summons to the better
home.
“Na,” she said to the minister, who has told me that he was
a better man from knowing her, “my thocht is no nane set on
the vanities o' the world noo. I kenna hoo I could ever hae
haen sic an ambeetion to hae thae stuff-bottomed chairs. ”
I have tried to keep away from Jamie, whom the neighbors
sometimes upbraided in her presence. It is of him you who
read would like to hear, and I cannot pretend that Jess did not
sit at her window looking for him.
“Even when she was bakin',” Tibbie told me, she
an eye on the brae. If Jamie had come at ony time when it
was licht she would hae seen 'im as
as he turned the
corner. ”
“If he ever comes back, the sacket” (rascal), T'nowhead said
to Jess, we'll show 'im the door gey quick. ”
Jess just looked, and all the women knew how she would take
Jamie to her arms.
We did not know of the London woman then, and Jess never
knew of her. Jamie's mother never for an hour allowed that he
had become anything but the loving laddie of his youth.
“I ken 'im ower weel,” she always said, “my ain Jamie. ”
Toward the end she was sure he was dead. I do not know
when she first made up her mind to this, nor whether it was not
merely a phrase for those who wanted to discuss him with her.
I know that she still sat at the window looking at the elbow of
the brae.
The minister was with her when she died. She was in her
chair, and he asked her, as was his custom, if there was any par-
ticular chapter which she would like him to read. Since her
husband's death she had always asked for the fourteenth of John,
aye had
sune


## p. 1595 (#393) ###########################################

JAMES MATTHEW BARRIE
1595
“Hendry's chapter," as it is still called among a very few old
people in Thrums. This time she asked him to read the six-
teenth chapter of Genesis.
«When I came to the thirteenth verse,” the minister toid me,
« (And she called the name of the Lord that spake unto her,
Thou God seest me,' she covered her face with her two hands,
and said, Joey's text, Joey's text. Oh, but I grudged ye sair,
Joey. »
«I shut the book," the minister said, “when I came to the
end of the chapter, and then I saw that she was dead.
belief that her heart broke one-and-twenty years ago. ”
It is my
AFTER THE SERMON
From "The Little Minister)
ONE
path.
Ne may gossip in a glen on Sabbaths, though not in a town,
without losing his character, and I used to await the return
of my neighbor, the farmer of Waster Lunny, and of
Birse, the Glen Quharity post, at the end of the school-house
Waster Lunny was a man whose care in his leisure hours
was to keep from his wife his great pride in her.
His horse,
Catlaw, on the other hand, he told outright what he thought of
it, praising it to its face and blackguarding it as it deserved, and
I have seen him, when completely baffled by the brute, sit down
before it on a stone and thus harangue:-“You think you're
clever, Catlaw, my lass, but you're mista'en. You're a thrawn
limmer, that's what you are. You think you have blood in you.
You ha'e blood! Gae awa, and dinna blether. I tell you what,
Catlaw, I met a man yestreen that kent your mither, and he
says she was a feikie,* fushionless besom.
What do you say to
that ? »
As for the post, I will say no more of him than that his
bitter topic was the unreasonableness of humanity, which treated
him graciously when he had a letter for it, but scowled at him
when he had none, “aye implying that I ha’e a letter, but keep
it back. ”
On the Sabbath evening after the riot, I stood at the usual
place awaiting my friends, and saw before they reached me that
* Feikie, over-particular.


## p. 1596 (#394) ###########################################

1596
JAMES MATTHEW BARRIE
once,
they had something untoward to tell. The farmer, his wife, and
three children, holding each other's hands, stretched across the
road. Birse was a little behind, but a conversation was being
kept up by shouting. All were walking the Sabbath pace, and
the family having started half a minute in advance, the post had
not yet made up on them.
"It's sitting to snaw,” Waster Lunny said, drawing near, and
just as I was to reply, "It is so,” Silva slipped in the words
before me.
“You wasna at the kirk, was Elspeth's salutation. I had
been at the glen church, but did not contradict her, for it is
Established, and so neither here nor there. I was anxious, too,
to know what their long faces meant, and therefore asked at
“Was Mr. Dishart on the riot ? ”
Forenoon, ay; afternoon, no," replied Waster Lunny, walking
round his wife to get nearer me. « Dominie, a queery thing
happened in the kirk this day, sic as - »
“Waster Lunny,” interrupted Elspeth sharply, “have you on
your Sabbath shoon or have you no on your Sabbath shoon ? »
“Guid care you took I should ha'e the dagont oncanny things
on,” retorted the farmer.
"Keep out o' the gutter, then,” said Elspeth, "on the Lord's
day. ”
“Him,” said her man, “that is forced by a foolish woman to
wear genteel 'lastic-sided boots canna forget them until he takes
them aff. Whaur's the extra reverence in wearing shoon twa
sizes ower sma’? »
"It mayna be mair reverent,” suggested Birse, to whom Els-
peth's kitchen was a pleasant place, but it's grand, and you
canna expect to be baith grand and comfortable. ”
I reminded them that they were speaking of Mr. Dishart.
"We was saying,” began the post briskly, “that — »
“It was me that was saying it,” said Waster Lunny. “So,
Dominie – »
“Haud your gabs, baith o' you,” interrupted Elspeth. “You've
been roaring the story to one another till you're hoarse. ”
"In the forenoon,” Waster Lunny went on determinedly, “Mr.
Dishart preached on the riot, and fine he was. Oh, dominie, you
should hae heard him ladling it on to Lang Tammas, no by
name, but in sic a way that there was no mistaking wha he was
preaching at. Sal! oh, losh! Tammas got it strong. ”


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JAMES MATTHEW BARRIE
1597
“But he's dull in the uptake," broke in the post, “by what I
expected. I spoke to him after the sermon, and I says, just to
see if he was properly humbled:-'Ay, Tammas,' I says, 'them
that discourse was preached against winna think themselves seven-
feet men for a while again. ' 'Ay, Birse,' he answers, “and glad
I am to hear you admit it, for he had you in his eye. I was
fair scunnered at Tammas the day. ”
“Mr. Dishart was preaching at the whole clan-jamfray o' you,”
said Elspeth.
“Maybe he was,” said her husband, leering; “but you needna
cast it at us, for my certie, if the men got it frae him in the
forenoon, the women got it in the afternoon. ”
“He redd them up most michty,” said the post.
« Thae was
his very words or something like them:- Adam,' says he, 'was
an erring man, but aside Eve he was respectable. »
“Ay, but it wasna a' women he meant,” Elspeth explained,
“for when he said that, he pointed his finger direct at T'now-
head's lassie, and I hope it'll do her good. ”
« But, I wonder,” I said, “that Mr. Dishart chose such a sub-
ject to-day. I thought he would be on the riot at both services. ”
“You'll wonder mair,” said Elspeth, “when you hear what
happened afore he began the afternoon sermon. But I canna
get in a word wi’ that man o' mine. ”
“We've been speaking about it,” said Birse, "ever since we
left the kirk door. Tod, we've been sawing it like seed a’ alang
the glen. ”
“And we meant to tell you about it at once, » said Waster
Lunny; “but there's aye so muckle to say about a minister.
Dagont, to hae ane keeps a body out o' languor. Aye, but this
breaks the drum. Dominie, either Mr. Dishart wasna weel or he
was in the devil's grip. ”
This startled me, for the farmer was looking serious.
“He was weel eneuch,” said Birse, "for a heap o' fowk spiered
at Jean if he had ta'en his porridge as usual, and she admitted
he had. But the lassie was skeered hersel', and said it was a
mercy Mrs. Dishart wasna in the kirk. ”
“Why was she not there? ” I asked anxiously.
“Ou, he winna let her out in sic weather. ”
"I wish you would tell me what happened,” I said to Elspeth.
"So I will,” she answered, “if Waster Lunny would haud his
wheest for a minute. You see the afternoon diet began in the


## p. 1598 (#396) ###########################################

1598
JAMES MATTHEW BARRIE
ordinary way, and a' was richt until we came to the sermon.
You will find my text,' he says, in his piercing voice, in the
eighth chapter of Ezra. ) »
“And at thae words,” said Waster Lunny, "my heart gae a
loup, for Ezra is an unca ill book to find; ay, and so is Ruth. ”
“I kent the books o' the Bible by heart,” said Elspeth, scorn-
fully, “when I was a sax-year-auld. ”
"So did I,” said Waster Lunny, and I ken them yet, except
when I'm hurried. When Mr. Dishart gave out Ezra he a sort
o' keeked round the kirk to find out if he had puzzled onybody,
and so there was a kind o' a competition among the congregation
wha would lay hand on it first. That was what doited me. Ay,
there was Ruth when she wasna wanted, but Ezra, dagont, it
looked as if Ezra had jumped clean out o' the Bible. ”
“You wasna the only distressed crittur,” said his wife. "I
was ashamed to see Eppie McLaren looking up the order o' the
books at the beginning o' the Bible. ”
« Tibbie Birse was even mair brazen," said the post, “for the
sly cuttie opened at Kings and pretended it was Ezra. ”
“None o' thae things would I do,” said Waster Lunny, and
sal, I dauredna, for Davit Lunan was glowering ower my shuther.
Ay, you may scowl at me, Elspeth Proctor, but as far back as I
can mind Ezra has done me. Mony a time afore I start for the
kirk I take my Bible to a quiet place and look Ezra up. In the
very pew I says canny to mysel', 'Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, Job,'
the which should be a help, but the moment the minister gi'es
out that awfu' book, away goes Ezra like the Egyptian. ”
“And you after her,” said Elspeth, like the weavers that
wouldna fecht. You make a windmill of your Bible. ”
"Oh, I winna admit I'm beat. Never mind, there's queer
things in the world forby Ezra. How is cripples aye so puffed
up mair than other folk ? How does flour-bread aye fall on the
buttered side ? »
"I will mind,” Elspeth said, “for I was terrified the minister
would admonish you frae the pulpit. ”
“He couldna hae done that, for was he no baffled to find Ezra
himsel'? »
« Him no find Ezra! ” cried Elspeth. "I hae telled you a
dozen times he found it as easy as you could yoke a horse. ”
«The thing can be explained in no other way,” said her hus-
band doggedly; if he was weel and in sound mind. ”


## p. 1599 (#397) ###########################################

JAMES MATTHEW BARRIE
1599
“Maybe the dominie can clear it up,” suggested the post,
“him being a scholar. ”
« Then tell me what happened,” I asked.
Man, hae we no telled you ? ” Birse said.
“I thocht we
had. ”
«It was a terrible scene,” said Elspeth, giving her husband a
shove. “As I said, Mr. Dishart gave out Ezra eighth. Weel,
I turned it up in a jiffy, and syne looked cautiously to see how
Eppie McLaren was getting on. Just at that minute I heard a
groan frae the pulpit. It didna stop short o' a groan. Ay, you
may be sure I looked quick at the minister, and there I saw a
sicht that would hae made the grandest gape. His face was as
white as a baker's, and he had a sort of fallen against the back
o' the pulpit, staring demented-like at his open Bible. ”
“And I saw him,” said Birse, "put up his hand atween him
and the Book, as if he thocht it was to jump at him. ”
«Twice,” said Elspeth, he tried to speak, and twice he let
the words fall. »
“That,” said Waster Lunny, “the whole congregation admits,
but I didna see it mysel', for a' this time you may picture me
hunting savage-like for Ezra.
I thocht the minister was waiting
till I found it. »
“Hendry Munn,” said Birse, “stood upon one leg, wondering
whether he should run to the session-house for a glass of water. ”
« But by that time,” said Elspeth, “the fit had left Mr. Dish-
art, or rather it had ta'en a new turn. He grew red, and it's
gospel that he stamped his foot. ”
«He had the face of one using bad words,” said the post.
He didna swear, of course, but that was the face he had on. ”
“I missed it,” said Waster Lunny, "for I was in full cry
after Ezra, with the sweat running down my face. ”
“But the most astounding thing has yet to be telled," went
on Elspeth. “The minister shook himsel' like one wakening frae
a nasty dream, and he cries in a voice of thunder, just as if he
was shaking his fist at somebody — »
«He cries,” Birse interposed, cleverly, "he cries, You will
find the text in Genesis, chapter three, verse six. ) »
« Yes,” said Elspeth, "first he gave out one text, and then he
gave out another, being the most amazing thing to my mind that
ever happened in the town of Thrums. What will our children's
children think o't? I wouldna ha'e missed it for a pound note. ”
(C


## p. 1600 (#398) ###########################################

1600
JAMES MATTHEW BARRIE
(
can
"Nor me,” said Waster Lunny, “though I only got the tail
o't. Dominie, no sooner had he said Genesis third and sixth,
than I laid my finger on Ezra. Was it no provoking? Onybody
turn up Genesis, but it needs an able-bodied man to find
Ezra. "
“He preached on the Fall,” Elspeth said, "for an hour and
twenty-five minutes, but powerful though he was I would rather
he had telled us what made him gie the go-by to Ezra. ”
"All I can say,” said Waster Lunny, “is that I never heard
him mair awe-inspiring. Whaur has he got sic a knowledge of
women ? He riddled them, he fair riddled them, till I was
ashamed o' being married. ”
"It's easy kent whaur he got his knowledge of women,” Birse
explained, “it's a' in the original Hebrew. You can howk ony
mortal thing out o' the original Hebrew, the which all ministers
hae at their finger ends. What else makes them ken to jump a
verse now and then when giving out a psalm ? ”
"It wasna women like me he denounced,” Elspeth insisted,
"but young lassies that leads men astray wi' their abominable
wheedling ways. ”
«Tod,” said her husband, “if they try their hands on Mr.
Dishart they'll meet their match. ”
« They will,” chuckled the post. «The Hebrew's a grand
thing, though teuch, I'm telled, michty teuch. ”
His sublimest burst,” Waster Lunny came back to tell me,
was about the beauty o' the soul being everything and the
beauty o' the face no worth a snuff. What a scorn he has for
bonny faces and toom souls! I dinna deny but what a bonny
face fell takes me, but Mr. Dishart wouldna gi'e a blade o' grass
for't. Ay, and I used to think that in their foolishness about
women there was dagont little differ atween the unlearned and
the highly edicated. ”
THE MUTUAL DISCOVERY
From The Little Minister)
A.
YOUNG man thinks that he alone of mortals is impervious to
love, and so the discovery that he is in it suddenly alters
his views of his own mechanism. It is thus not unlike a
rap on the funny-bone. Did Gavin make this discovery when the


## p. 1601 (#399) ###########################################

JAMES MATTHEW BARRIE
1601
Egyptian left him? Apparently he only came to the brink of it
and stood blind. He had driven her from him for ever, and his
sense of loss was so acute that his soul cried out for the cure
rather than for the name of the malady.
In time he would have realized what had happened, but time
was denied him, for just as he was starting for the mudhouse
Babbie saved his dignity by returning to him.
. She
looked up surprised, or seemingly surprised, to find him still
there.
“I thought you had gone away long ago," she said stiffly.
"Otherwise,” asked Gavin the dejected, you would not have
came back to the well ? »
"Certainly not.
“I am very sorry.
Had you waited another moment I should
have been gone. "
This was said in apology, but the willful Egyptian chose to
change its meaning.
“You have no right to blame me for disturbing you,” she
declared with warmth.
«I did not.
I only ”
« You could have been a mile away by this time. Nanny
wanted more water. ”
Babbie scrutinized the minister sharply as she made this state-
ment. Surely her conscience troubled her, for on his not answer-
ing immediately she said, “Do you presume to disbelieve me?
What could have made me return except to fill the pans again ? ”
“Nothing,” Gavin admitted eagerly, “and I assure you -”
Babbie should have been grateful to his denseness, but it
merely set her mind at rest.
“Say anything against me you choose,” she told him.
it as brutally as you like, for I won't listen. ”
She stopped to hear his response to that, and she looked so
cold that it almost froze on Gavin's lips.
“I had no right,” he said dolefully, "to speak to you as I did. ”
"You had not,” answered the proud Egyptian. She was look-
ing away from him to show that his repentance was not even
interesting to her. However, she had forgotten already not to
listen.
She was very near him, and the tears had not yet dried
on her eyes. They were laughing eyes, eyes in distress, implor-
ing eyes.
Her pale face, smiling, sad, dimpled yet entreating
“Say
III-IOI


## p. 1602 (#400) ###########################################

1602
JAMES MATTHEW BARRIE
>>>
forgiveness, was the one prominent thing in the world to him
just then. He wanted to kiss her. He would do it as soon as
her eyes rested on his, but she continued without regarding him.
“How mean that sounds! Oh, if I were a man I would wish
to be everything that I am not, and nothing that I am. I would
scorn to be a liar, I would choose to be open in all things, I
would try to fight the world honestly. But I am only a woman,
and so well, that is the kind of man I would like to marry. ”
“A minister may be all these things,” said Gavin breathlessly.
« The man I could love, Babbie went on, not heeding him,
almost forgetting that he was there, “must not spend his days in
idleness as the men I know do. ”
«I do not. "
«He must be brave, no mere worker among others, but a
leader of men. ”
“All ministers are. ”
“Who makes his influence felt. ”
«Assuredly. ”
«And takes the side of the weak against the strong, even
though the strong be in the right. ”
"Always my tendency. ”
“A man who has a mind of his own, and having once made
it up stands to it in defiance even of- »
“Of his session. ”
“Of the world. He must understand me. ”
“I do. ”
«And be my master. ”
“It is his lawful position in the house. ”
«He must not yield to my coaxing or tempers.
“It would be weakness. ”
“But compel me to do his bidding; yes, even thrash me
»
if — »
"If you won't listen to reason. Babbie,” cried Gavin, “I am
that man! ”
Here the inventory abruptly ended, and these two people
found themselves staring at each other, as if of a sudden they
had heard something dreadful. I do not know how long they
stood thus motionless and horrified. I cannot tell even which
stirred first. All I know is that almost simultaneously they
turned from each other and hurried out of the wood in opposite
directions.


## p. 1603 (#401) ###########################################

JAMES MATTHEW BARRIE
1603
LOST ILLUSIONS
From (Sentimental Tommy)
T°
on
a
O-MORROW came, and with it two eager little figures rose and
gulped their porridge, and set off to see Thrums. They
were dressed in the black clothes Aaron Latta had bought
for them in London, and they had agreed just to walk, but when
they reached the door and saw the tree-tops of the Den they —
they ran. Would you not like to hold them back? It is a child's
tragedy.
They went first into the Den, and the rocks were dripping
wet, all the trees save the firs were bare, and the mud round a
tiny spring pulled off one of Elspeth's boots.
« Tommy,” she cried, quaking, “that narsty puddle can't not
be the Cuttle Well, can it ? ”
“No, it ain't,” said Tommy, quickly, but he feared it was.
«It's c-c-colder here than London,” Elspeth said, shivering,
and Tommy was shivering too, but he answered, “I'm — I'm
I'm warm. ”
The Den
was strangely small, and soon they were
shabby brae, where women in short gowns came to their doors
and men in night-caps sat down on the shafts of their barrows to
look at Jean Myles's bairns.
« What does yer think ? ” Elspeth whispered, very doubtfully.
« They're beauties,” Tommy answered, determinedly.
Presently Elspeth cried, “Oh, Tommy, what a ugly stair!
Where is the beauty stairs as it wore outside for show ? ”
This was one of them, and Tommy knew it.
«Wait till you
see the west town end,” he said, bravely: "it's grand. ” But
when they were in the west town end, and he had to admit it,
« Wait till you see the square,” he said, and when they were in
the square, “Wait,” he said, huskily, “till you see the town-
house. "
Alas, this was the town-house facing them, and when
they knew it, he said, hurriedly, “Wait till you see the Auld
Licht kirk. ”
They stood long in front of the Auld Licht kirk, which he
had sworn was bigger and lovelier than St. Paul's, but — well, it
is a different style of architecture, and had Elspeth not been
there with tears in waiting, Tommy would have blubbered. It's
- it's littler than I thought,” he said, desperately, but — the
minister, oh, what a wonderful big man he is! ”


## p. 1604 (#402) ###########################################

1604
JAMES MATTHEW BARRIE
“Are you sure? ” Elspeth squeaked.
“I swear he is. ”
The church door opened and a gentleman came out, a little
man, boyish in the back, with the eager face of those who live
too quickly. But it was not at him that Tommy pointed reas-
suringly; it was at the monster church key, half of which pro-
truded from his tail pocket and waggled as he moved, like the
hilt of a sword.
Speaking like an old residenter, Tommy explained that he had
brought his sister to see the church. “She's ta'en aback," he
said, picking out Scotch words carefully, because it's littler than
the London kirks, but I telled her — I telled her that the preach-
ing is better. ”
This seemed to please the stranger, for he patted Tommy on
the head while inquiring, "How do you know that the preaching
is better ? ”
« Tell him, Elspeth,” replied Tommy, modestly.
« There ain't nuthin' as Tommy don't know,” Elspeth ex-
plained. “He knows what the minister is like, too. ”
“He's a noble sight,” said Tommy.
“He can get anything from God he likes," said Elspeth.
“He's a terrible big man,” said Tommy.
This seemed to please the little gentleman less. “Big! he
exclaimed, irritably; "why should he be big ? »
"He is big,” Elspeth almost screamed, for the minister was
her last hope.
«Nonsense! ” said the little gentleman. “He is — well, I am
the minister. »
« You! ” roared Tommy, wrathfully.
“Oh, oh, oh! ” sobbed Elspeth.
For a moment the Rev. Mr. Dishart looked as if he would
like to knock two little heads together, but he walked away
without doing it.
«Never mind,” whispered Tommy hoarsely to Elspeth.
“Never mind, Elspeth, you have me yet. ”
This consolation seldom failed to gladden her, but her disap-
pointment was so sharp to-day that she would not even look up.
“Come away to the cemetery, it's grand,” he said; but still
she would not be comforted.
“And I'll let you hold my hand as soon as we're past the
houses,” he added.


## p. 1605 (#403) ###########################################

JAMES MATTHEW BARRIE
1605
(
“I'll let you hold it now," he said, eventually; but even then
Elspeth cried dismally, and her sobs were hurting him more than
her.
He knew all the ways of getting round Elspeth, and when
next he spoke it was with a sorrowful dignity. "I didna think,
he said, “as yer wanted me never to be able to speak again; no,
I didna think it, Elspeth. ”
She took her hands from her face and looked at him inquir-
ingly.
«One of the stories mamma telled me and Reddy,” he said,
were a man what saw such a beauty thing that he was struck
dumb with admiration. Struck dumb is never to be able to
speak again, and I wish I had been struck dumb when you
wanted it. ”
“But I didn't want it ! » Elspeth cried.
"If Thrums had been one little bit beautier than it is,” he
went on, solemnly, “it would have struck me dumb. It would
have hurt me sore, but what about that, if it pleased you! »
Then did Elspeth see what a wicked girl she had been, and
when next the two were seen by the curious (it was
on the
cemetery road), they were once more looking cheerful. At the
smallest provocation they exchanged notes of admiration, such
as, “O Tommy, what a bonny barrel! ” or “O Elspeth, I tell
yer that's a dike, and there's just walls in London;” but some-
times Elspeth would stoop hastily, pretending that she wanted
to tie her boot-lace, but really to brush away a tear, and there
were moments when Tommy hung very limp. Each was trying
to deceive the other for the other's sake, and one of them was
never good at deception. They saw through each other, yet kept
up the chilly game, because they could think of nothing better;
and perhaps the game was worth playing, for love invented it.
Scribner's Magazine. Copyrighted by Charles Scribner's Sons, New York.


## p. 1606 (#404) ###########################################

1606
JAMES MATTHEW BARRIE
SINS OF CIRCUMSTANCE
From (Sentimental Tommy'
W
"
« Gie me my
ITH the darkness, too, crept into the Muckley certain devils
in the color of the night who spoke thickly and rolled
braw lads in the mire, and egged on friends to fight, and
cast lewd thoughts into the minds of the women. At first the
men had been bashful swains. To the women's
faring, Jock,” they had replied, “Wait, Jean, till I'm fee'd,” but
by night most had got their arles, with a dram above it, and he
who could only guffaw at Jean a few hours ago had her round
the waist now, and still an arm free for rough play with other
kimmers. The Jeans were as boisterous as the Jocks, giving
them leer for leer, running from them with a giggle, waiting to
be caught and rudely kissed. Grand, patient, long-suffering fel-
lows these men were, up at five, summer and winter, foddering
their horses, maybe, hours before there would be food for them-
selves, miserably paid, housed like cattle, and when the rheuma-
tism seized them, liable to be fung aside like a broken graip.
As hard was the life of the women: coarse food, chaff beds,
damp clothes their portion; their sweethearts in the service of
masters who were loth to fee a married man. Is it to be won-
dered that these lads who could be faithful unto death drank
soddenly on their one free day; that these girls, starved of oppor-
tunities for womanliness, of which they could make as much as
the finest lady, sometimes woke after a Muckley to wish that they
might wake no more ?
Scribner's Magazine. Copyrighted by Charles Scribner's Sons, New York.


## p. 1607 (#405) ###########################################

1607
FRÉDÉRIC BASTIAT
(1801-1850)
a
OLITICAL Economy has been called the dismal science”; and
probably the majority think of it as either merely a mat-
ter of words and phrases, or as something too abstruse for
the common mind to comprehend. It was the distinction of Bastiat
that he was able to write economic tracts in such a language that he
that ran might read, and to clothe the apparently dry bones with
such integuments as manifested vitality. Under his pen, questions of
finance, of tax, of exchange, became questions which concern the
lives of individual men and women, with
sentiments, hopes, and aspirations.
He was born at Bayonne in France,
June 19th, 1801. At nine years of age he
was left an orphan, but he was cared for
by his grandfather and aunt. He received
his schooling at the college of St. Sever
and at Sorèze, where he was noted as
diligent student. When about twenty years
of age he was taken into the commercial
house of his uncle at Bayonne. His leis-
ure was employed in cultivating art and
literature, and he became accomplished in
languages and in instrumental and vocal FRÉDÉRIC BASTIAT
music. He was early interested in politi-
cal and social economy through the writings of Adam Smith, J. B.
Say, Comte, and others; and having inherited considerable landed
property at Mugron on the death of his grandfather in 1827, he under-
took the personal charge of it, at the same time continuing his
economic studies. His experiment in farming did not prove success-
ful; but he rapidly developed clear ideas upon economical problems,
being much assisted in their consideration by frequent conferences
with his neighbor, M. Felix Coudroy. These two worked much
together, and cherished a close sympathy in thought and heart.
The bourgeois revolution of 1830 was welcomed enthusiastically
by Bastiat. It was a revolution of prosperous and well-instructed
men, willing to make sacrifices to attain an orderly and systematic
method of government.