g with him last week that he sacrifices the
last head of his sermon almost every Sunday in his city pulpit. But he
was only a lad in Drumtochty, and besides was full of a historical
parallel, which after a scientific illustration is most irresistible to
a young minister. No one had ever seen it before, but of course Elijah
was John Knox, and Jezebel was Queen Mary of Scots, and then Carmichael
set to work afresh, with something less than conspicuous success.
Scottish people are always ready for a eulogium on John Knox in church,
or on Robert Burns out of church, but the Reformer is rather the object
of patriotic respect and personal devotion. Netherton snuffed in quite
a leisurely way, and the women examined the bonnet of the manse
housekeeper, while Knox stood in the breach for the liberties of
Scotland, and when Carmichael began to meddle with Mary, he distinctly
lost the sympathies of his audience and entered on dangerous ground.
Scots allow themselves, at times, the rare luxury of being illogical,
and one of the occasions is their fondness for Queen Mary. An austere
Puritan may prove that this young woman was French in her ways, an
enemy to the Evangel, a born and practised flirt, and art and part in
the murder of Darnley. A Scot will not deny the evidence, and if he be
thrust into the box he may bring in the prisoner guilty, but his heart
is with the condemned, and he has a grudge against the prosecutor. For
he never forgets that Mary was of the royal blood and a thorough
Stewart, that her face turned men's heads in every country she touched,
that she had the courage of a man in her, that she was shamefully used,
and if she did throw over that ill-conditioned lad, well . . . "Puir
lassie, she hed naebody tae guide her, but sall, she focht her battle
weel," and out of this judgment none can drive an honest Scot. "Yon
wes a graund discoorse the day, gude wife," Jeems hazarded to Elspeth
on the way home, "but a' thocht the minister wes a wee hard on Queen
Mary; there 's nae doot she wes a papist, an' micht hae gien Knox a bit
twist wi' the screws gin she cud hae gruppit him, but a' dinna like her
misca'd."

"A 've heard him wi' ma ain ears crackin' her up by the 'oor, an' a'
canna mak' oot what set him against her the day; but he 's young,"
remarked Elspeth, sagely, "an' wi' his age it's either saint or deevil,
an' ae day the one an' the next day the ither; there 's nae medium.
Noo, maist fouk are juist half a