an upright magistrate and an
honourable man, his opinions of others were always strict, and sometimes
unjustly severe. Mr. Morton, on the contrary, had passed from the
literary pursuits of a college, where he was beloved by his companions
and respected by his teachers, to the ease and simplicity of his present
charge, where his opportunities of witnessing evil were few, and never
dwelt upon but in order to encourage repentance and amendment; and where
the love and respect of his parishioners repaid his affectionate zeal in
their behalf by endeavouring to disguise from him what they knew would
give him the most acute pain, namely, their own occasional transgressions
of the duties which it was the business of his life to recommend. Thus it
was a common saying in the neighbourhood (though both were popular
characters), that the laird knew only the ill in the parish and the
minister only the good.

A love of letters, though kept in subordination to his clerical studies
and duties, also distinguished the pastor of Cairnvreckan, and had tinged
his mind in earlier days with a slight feeling of romance, which no after
incidents of real life had entirely dissipated. The early loss of an
amiable young woman whom he had married for love, and who was quickly
followed to the grave by an only child, had also served, even after the
lapse of many years, to soften a disposition naturally mild and
contemplative. His feelings on the present occasion were therefore likely
to differ from those of the severe disciplinarian, strict magistrate, and
distrustful man of the world.

When the servants had withdrawn, the silence of both parties continued,
until Major Melville, filling his glass and pushing the bottle to Mr.
Morton, commenced--

'A distressing affair this, Mr. Morton. I fear this youngster has brought
himself within the compass of a halter.'

'God forbid!' answered the clergyman.

'Marry, and amen,' said the temporal magistrate; 'but I think even your
merciful logic will hardly deny the conclusion.'

'Surely, Major,' answered the clergyman, 'I should hope it might be
averted, for aught we have heard tonight?'

'Indeed!' replied Melville. 'But, my good parson, you are one of those
who would communicate to every criminal the benefit of clergy.'

'Unquestionably I would. Mercy and long-suffering are the grounds of the
doctrine I am called to teach.'

'True, religiously speaking; but mercy to a criminal may be gross
injustice