ideas and richer culture； and he was far too quick in sympathy with
life to remain untouched by his surroundings。 He was more tolerant
of opinions other than his own； but more unrelenting in his
fidelity to conscience and more impatient of half…heartedness and
self…indulgence。 He was full of reverence for the great scholars
and the great leaders of men he had come to know。
'Great； noble fellows they are； and extraordinarily modest；' he
said'that is； the really great are modest。 There are plenty of
the other sort； neither great nor modest。 And the books to be
read！ I am quite hopeless about my reading。 It gave me a queer
sensation to shake hands with a man who had written a great book。
To hear him make commonplace remarks； to witness a faltering in
knowledgeone expects these men to know everythingand to
experience respectful kindness at his hands！'
'What of the younger men？' I asked。
'Bright； keen； generous fellows。 In things theoretical； omniscient；
but in things practical； quite helpless。 They toss about great
ideas as the miners lumps of coal。 They can call them by their book
names easily enough； but I often wondered whether they could put
them into English。 Some of them I coveted for the mountains。 Men
with clear heads and big hearts； and built after Sandy M'Naughton's
model。 It does seem a sinful waste of God's good human stuff to see
these fellows potter away their lives among theories living and
dead； and end up by producing a book！ They are all either making or
going to make a book。 A good thing we haven't to read them。 But
here and there among them is some quiet chap who will make a book
that men will tumble over each other to read。'
Then we paused and looked at each other。
'Well？' I said。 He understood me。
'Yes！' he answered slowly； 'doing great work。 Every one worships
her just as we do； and she is making them all do something worth
while； as she used to make us。'
He spoke cheerfully and readily as if he were repeating a lesson
well learned； but he could not humbug me。 I felt the heartache in
the cheerful tone。
'Tell me about her；' I said； for I knew that if he would talk it
would do him good。 And talk he did； often forgetting me； till； as
I listened； I found myself looking again into the fathomless eyes；
and hearing again the heart…searching voice。 I saw her go in and
out of the little red…tiled cottages and down the narrow back lanes
of the village； I heard her voice in a sweet； low song by the bed
of a dying child； or pouring forth floods of music in the great new
hall of the factory town near by。 But I could not see； though he
tried to show me； the stately gracious lady receiving the country
folk in her home。 He did not linger over that scene； but went back
again to the gate…cottage where she had taken him one day to see
Billy Breen's mother。
'I found the old woman knew all about me；' he said； simply enough；
'but there were many things about Billy she had never heard； and I
was glad to put her right on some points； though Mrs。 Mavor would
not hear it。'
He sat silent for a little； looking into the coals； then went on in
a soft； quiet voice
'It brought back the mountains and the old days to hear again
Billy's tones in his mother's voice； and to see her sitting there
in the very dress she wore the night of the League； you remember
some soft stuff with black lace about itand to hear her sing as
she did for Billyah！ ah！' His voice unexpectedly broke； but in a
moment he was master of himself and begged me to forgive his
weakness。 I am afraid I said words that should not be saida
thing I never do； except when suddenly and utterly upset。
'I am getting selfish and weak；' he said； 'I must get to work。 I
am glad to get to work。 There is much to do； and it is worth
while； if only to keep one from getting useless and lazy。'
'Useless and lazy！' I said to myself； thinking of my life beside
his； and trying to get command of my voice； so as not to make quite
a fool of myself。 And for many a day those words goaded me to work
and to the exercise of some mild self…denial。 But more than all
else； after Craig had gone back to the mountains； Graeme's letters
from the railway construction camp stirred one to do unpleasant
duty long postponed； and rendered uncomfortable my hours of most
luxurious ease。 Many of the old gang were with him； both of
lumbermen and miners； and Craig was their minister。 And the
letters told of how he laboured by day and by night along the line
of construction； carrying his tent and kit with him； preaching
straight sermons； watching by sick men； writing their letters； and
winning their hearts； making strong their lives； and helping them
to die well when their hour came。 One day； these letters proved
too much for me； and I packed away my paints and brushes； and made
my vow unto the Lord that I would be 'useless and lazy' no longer；
but would do something with myself。 In consequence； I found myself
within three weeks walking the London hospitals； finishing my
course； that I might join that band of men who were doing something
with life； or； if throwing it away； were not losing it for nothing。
I had finished being a fool； I hoped； at least a fool of the
useless and luxurious kind。 The letter that came from Graeme； in
reply to my request for a position on his staff； was characteristic
of the man； both new and old； full of gayest humour and of most
earnest welcome to the work。
Mrs。 Mavor's reply was like herself
'I knew you would not long be content with the making of pictures；
which the world does not really need； and would join your friends
in the dear West； making lives that the world needs so sorely。'
But her last words touched me strangely
'But be sure to be thankful every day for your privilege。 。 。 。 It
will be good to think of you all； with the glorious mountains about
you； and Christ's own work in your hands。 。 。 。 Ah！ how we would
like to choose our work； and the place in which to do it！'
The longing did not appear in the words； but I needed no words to
tell me how deep and how constant it was。 And I take some credit
to myself； that in my reply I gave her no bidding to join our band；
but rather praised the work she was doing in her place； telling her
how I had heard of it from Craig。
The summer found me religiously doing Paris and Vienna； gaining a
more perfect acquaintance with the extent and variety of my own
ignorance； and so fully occupied in this interesting and wholesome
occupation that I fell out with all my correspondents； with the
result of weeks of silence between us。
Two letters among the heap waiting on my table in London made my
heart beat quick； but with how different feelings： one from Graeme
telling me that Craig had been very ill； and that he was to take
him home as soon as he could be moved。 Mrs。 Mavor's letter told me
of the death of the old lady； who had been her care for the past
two years； and of her intention to spend some months in her old
home in Edinburgh。 And this letter it is that accounts for my
presence in a miserable； dingy； dirty little hall running off a
close in the historic Cowgate； redolent of the glories of the
splendid past； and of the various odours of the evil…smelling
present。 I was there to hear Mrs。 Mavor sing to the crowd of
gamins that thronged the closes in the neighbourhood； and that had
been gathered into a club by 'a fine leddie frae the West End；' for
the love of Christ and His lost。 This was an 'At Home' night； and
the mothers and fathers； sisters and brothers； of all ages and
sizes were present。 Of all the sad faces I had ever seen； those
mothers carried the saddest and most woe…stricken。 'Heaven pity
us！' I found myself saying； 'is this the beautiful； the cultured；
the heaven…exalted city of Edinburgh？ Will it not； for this； be
cast down into hell some day； if it repent not of its closes and
their dens of defilement？ Oh！ the utter weariness； the dazed
hopelessness of the ghastly faces！ Do not the kindly； gentle
church…going folk of the crescents and the gardens see them in
their dreams； or are their dreams too heavenly for these ghastly
faces to appear？'
I cannot recall the programme of the evening； but in my memory…
gallery is a vivid picture of that face； sweet； sad； beautiful；
alight with the deep glow of her eyes； as she stood and sang to
that dingy crowd。 As I sat upon the window…ledge listening to the
voice with its flowing song； my thoughts were far away； and I was
looking down once more upon the eager； coal…grimed faces in the
rude little church in Black Rock。 I was brought back to find
myself swallowing hard by an audible whisper from a wee lassie to
her mother
'Mither！ See till yon man。 He's greetin'。'
When I came to myself she was singing 'The Land o' the Leal；' the
Scotch 'Jerusalem the Golden；' immortal； perfect。 It needed
experience of the hunger…haunted Cowgate closes； chill with the
black mist of an eastern haar； to feel the full bliss of the vision
in the words
'There's nae sorrow there； Jean；
There's neither cauld nor care； Jean；
The day is aye fair in
The Land o' the Leal。'
A land of fair； warm days； untouched by sorrow and care； would be
heaven indeed to the dwellers of the Cowgate。
The rest of that evening is hazy enough to me now； till I find
myself opposite Mrs。 Mavor at her fire； reading Graeme's letter；
then all is vivid again。
I could not keep the truth from her。 I knew it would be folly to
try。 So I read straight on till I came to the words
'He has had mountain fever； whatever that may be； and he will not
pull up again。 If I can； I shall take him home to my mother'when
she suddenly stretched out her hand； saying； 'Oh； let me read！' and
I gave her the letter。 In a minute she had read it； and began
almost breathlessly
'Listen！ my life is much changed。 My mother…in…law is gone； she
needs me no longer。 My solicitor tells me； too； that owing to
unfortunate investments there is need of money； so great need； that
it is possible that either the estates or the works must go。 My
cousin has his all in the worksiron works； you know。 It would be
wrong