r would join in the singing, although Bell naively
remarked on that point:

"He hadna much ear for music, ye ken."

Of the priest of that day, "Mr." McGillivray, as the old style of
address ran, more will be said later. The figure next in prominence to
him in Bell's recollections was the old sacristan, Robbie Benzie. For
many years he acted as "clerk" at the altar, continuing to carry out
his duties when well advanced in years. During the week he carried on
his trade of weaver; on Sundays he was at his post betimes, carrying a
lantern with him, from which he took the light for the altar candles.
Bell describes him as a stalwart man with fine features and dark eyes.
Clad in his green tartan plaid, he always accompanied the priest round
the little chapel with the holy water for the Asperges, and with his
"lint-white locks" flowing onto his neck, he used to appear in Bell's
eyes "a deal mair imposin' lookin' ner the priest himsel'." His modest
and respectful bearing gained him the esteem of all. "I always think
of him," said Bell, "as one o' the saints of th' olden times, ye ken.
He was the model of a guid Catholic--pious, hard-workin', and aye happy
and contented."

In those far-off days Ardmuirland was entirely Catholic. The Faith, in
consequence, was an integral part of the life of the district, and the
priest the recognized potentate, whom every one was at all times ready
to serve--working on his croft, plowing, harvesting, and such
like--with cheerful promptitude. Any such labor, when required, was
requested by the priest from the altar on Sunday.

"I shall be glad to receive help this week on the glebe-land," he would
announce. "You will kindly arrange the division of labor among
yourselves."

The same would happen when the time came for cutting and storing up
peats for the winter fuel. The day and hour would be named, and all
who could possibly help would be at the hill punctually to take their
respective shares in the labor.

It was on one such occasion that the incident occurred which struck me
as the culminating point of Bell's recollections. I cannot give it as
dramatically as she did, and if I attempted to do so the pathos would
be marred by the broad Doric--unintelligible to southrons--in which her
narrative was told; but I will reproduce it as faithfully as possible
in my own words.

It was the "peat-casting" for the priest; every one had worked with a
will--young and old. Dinner had been