d the hours, and onward rolled the train in its desperate
struggle with them, till the setting sun, victorious over both, reminded
me that I would be in New Jedboro before the dusk deepened into dark.
Then restored I my sermon notes, reburnished and repaired, to the
trusty keeping of my well-worn valise, settling myself for one of those
delicious baths of thought to be truly enjoyed only on the farther side
of toil.

I had but well begun to compose my mind and to forecast the probable
experiences of the morrow, when a rich Scotch voice broke in upon me
with the unmistakable inquiry, "And where micht ye be gaein?"

I responded with the name of New Jedboro, assuming the air of a man who
was bent only upon a welcome visit to long-separated friends. But I had
reckoned without my host. My interrogator was a Scot, with the Scot's
incurable curiosity, always to be estimated by the indifference of his
air. If his face be eloquent of profound unconcern, then may you know
that a fever of inquisitiveness is burning at his heart.

My questioner seemed to scarcely listen for my answer, yet a tutored eye
could tell that he was camping on my trail.

His next interrogation was launched with courteous composure: "Ye'll no'
be the man wha's expeckit in St. Cuthbert's ower the Sabbath?"

I now saw that this was no diluted Scotsman. Bred on Canadian soil, he
was yet original and pure. He had struck the native Scottish note, the
ecclesiastical. Like all his countrymen, he had a native taste for a
minister. His instincts were towards the Kirk, and for all things akin
to Psalm or Presbytery he intuitively took the scent. I have maintained
to this day that he sniffed my sermons from afar, undeceived by the
worldly flavour of my rusty bag.

I collected myself heroically, and replied that I was looking forward to
the discharge of the high duty to which he had referred. Upon this
admission he moved nearer, as a great lawyer stalks his quarry in the
witness box. He eyed me solemnly for a moment, with the look of one
taking aim, and then said slowly--

"I'm no' an elder in that kirk."

"Are you not?" said I, with as generous an intonation of surprise as
conscience would permit.

"I'm no' an elder," he repeated. "But I gang till it," he added.

Then followed a pause, which I dared to break with the remark, "I am
told it is a spacious edifice."

He merely glanced at me, as if to say that all irrelevant conversation
was out of place, and