the whole congregation as he gave his
opinion of the young man to Duncan Polite on their homeward walk.
"It's a guid thing Maister Cameron's gone till his rest," he remarked
sombrely. "If he'd a lived to see his pulpit filled by a bit buddie
that couldna' hang on till his taxt for half an' 'oor, he'd never a
held up his heid again!"

And so Duncan had been driven to the extremity of seeking comfort in
the Methodist Church and was on his way thither, in some doubt as to
the wisdom of such a strange proceeding, and in much fear that Andrew
would disapprove.

The Methodist Church was a substantial brick building, set
picturesquely on the slope of the northern hill. Duncan went
hesitatingly in and took a seat near the door. He found it quite a
roomy place and well filled. There was much more ornamentation here
than in his own place of worship; the walls were papered, the pulpit
platform was covered with a gay carpet, two shining brass chandeliers
were suspended from the ceiling, the windows were frosted glass with a
row of lurid blue and red panes around each, and behind the minister
was the centre of attraction and cynosure of all eyes, the choir and
the organ.

Duncan felt a return of his misgivings when he recognised many members
of his own church in that institution; for, such was the chaos of these
new times that the Methodist services were attended regularly by nearly
all the young Presbyterians. And, indeed, matters had come to such a
pitch that the choir was conducted by no less a person than young
Andrew Johnstone himself, much to the wrath and shame of his pious
father.

That choir was at once the delight and torment of its members. The
hopes and fears, the triumphs and despairs that surged within the
little railing, would have been sufficient to swamp the congregation,
could they have broken loose. But the enjoyment outweighed the pain;
there was choir practise once a week and sometimes they were invited to
furnish the music at a neighbouring tea-meeting and both these were
unmixed joys. Then, too, they were permitted to sing quite alone at
the regular church services, while the collection was being taken up;
and sometimes they even ventured to sing an anthem, though the evening
they sang one with a tenor solo by Sylvanus Todd, they were considered
to have gone a little too far, by even the most liberal minded, and the
offence was not repeated until more enlightened times.

Mr. Ansdell, the Methodi