t and solemn sound that the first two
lines were sung out before a soul had thought of joining. But as the
voice from the manse seat took a new start into the mighty swing of "St.
Paul's," one by one the voices which had been singing that best-loved of
Scottish tunes at home in "taking the Buik," joined in, till by the end
of the verse the very walls were tingling with the joyful noise. There
was something ran through the Laigh Kirk that day to which it had long
been strange. "It's the gate o' heeven," said old Peter Thomson, the
millwright, who had voted for Ebenezer Skinner for minister, and had
regretted it ever since. He was glad of his vote now that the minister
had got married.

Then followed the prayer, which seemed new also; and Ebenezer Skinner's
prayers had for some time been well known to the congregation of the
Laigh Kirk. The worst of all prayer-mills is the threadbare liturgy
which a lazy or an unspiritual man cobbles up for himself. But there
seemed a new spirit in Ebenezer's utterances, and there was a thankful
feeling in the kirk of the Townend that day. As they "skailed," some of
the young folk went as far as to say that they hoped that desk would
never be filled. But this expression of opinion was discouraged, for it
was felt to border on irreverence.

Cracky Carlisle was accidentally at his door when Gib Dally passed on
his way home. Cracky had an unspoken question in his eye; but Gib did
not respond, for the singing had drawn a kind of spell over him too. So
Cracky had to speak plain out before Gib would answer.

"Wha sang the day?" he asked anxiously, hoping that there had been some
sore mishap, and that the minister, or even Mrs. Skinner herself, might
come humbly chapping at his door to fleech with him to return. And he
hardened himself even in the moment of imagination.

"We a' sang," said Gib cruelly.

"But wha led?" said the ex-precentor.

"Oh, we had no great miss of you, Cracky," said Gib, who remembered the
airs that the post had many a time given himself, and did not incline to
let him off easily in the day of his humiliation. "It was the
minister's wife that led."

The post lifted his hands, palm outwards, with a gesture of despair.

"Ay, I was jalousing it wad be her," said he sadly, as he turned into
his house. He felt that his occupation and craft were gone, and first
and last that the new mistress of the manse was the rock on which he had
split.

Mrs. Ebenezer Skinner soon