y 'Nearer, my God, to Thee.'"

Here was Geordie's evil genius in evidence again, his profligacy and his
piety hand in hand. Ascending the stairs, I reached the door just in
time to see the landlord, manipulator of the musical machine, forcing
Geordie to the door, one hand gripping his throat, the other buffeting
the helpless wretch in the face. Two or three of his unspeakable
kindred were applauding him.

"Get out of here, you beast," he muttered savagely, "and let decent folk
enjoy themselves. You'll not get no music nor no whisky either, hangin'
round an honest man's house without a penny in your pocket--get out, you
brute." And he struck him full in the face again.

It were wrong to say that I forgot I was a minister; I think I recalled
that very thing, and it gave more power to my arm, for I knew the
poverty amid which Geordie's poor wife strove to keep their home
together; and the pitiful bareness of wee Jessie's death-chamber flashed
before me. This well-nourished vampire had sucked the life-blood from
them all, and remembering this, I rushed into the unequal conflict and
smote the vampire between his greedy eyes with such fervour that he fell
where he stood. In a moment he was on his feet again, but my ministry
with him was not complete, and I seized him where he had gripped his own
victim, by the throat.

"Let me be. Remember you're a minister," he gasped.

"God forbid I should forget," I thundered back, for my blood was hot. I
remembered just then that wee Jessie had been dependent on charity for
the little delicacies that go with death; "and if God helps me you
won't forget it either," with which addition I hurled him down the
stairs, his final arrival signalled back by the sulphurous aroma of
bruised and battered maledictions.

It may be incidentally inserted here that this unclerical encounter of
mine was afterwards referred to at a meeting of St. Cuthbert's session.
One of the elders, never very friendly to me, preferred the charge of
conduct unbecoming a minister. Only two of his colleagues noticed the
indictment, and they both were elders of the old Scotch school.

"Oor minister's fine at the castin' doon o' the strongholds o' Satan,"
said the one; "it minds me o' what the beasts got i' the temple."

"It's mebbe no' Solomon's exact words, but it's gey like them: 'A time
to pit on the goon an' a time to tak' aff the coat'--an' it's the yae
kin' o' proheebeetion that's ony guid forbye," said the oth