m; they seemed to enter heartily into
the other portions of the service--but the psalms in metre are a great
Shibboleth. My beadle, who always sat where he could command the
congregation, has often assured me that when a psalm was announced he
could soon tell the sheep from the goats.

The service passed without special incident; for, although I suspected
their errand, all thought of it vanished when I came to preach. God's
jealous care will hold to undivided loyalty the heart that seeks to
serve Him.

Monday morning brought the deputation to close range. They interviewed
me in my study, and the house was redolent of Southern courtesy and
grace. Their accent had a foreign tang but their hearts' tone was that
of universal love. This latter word is not too strong to use, for the
Southerner has a rare genius for laying claim to your very heart by the
surrender of his own. Affection blooms fast in the Southern soul, but
our Northern bud needs time. Especially tardy is its ripening in
Scottish hearts, but the fruit is to Eternity.

The conversation was one of great interest and pleasure to myself, and
while I could give no definite promise I made no secret of the
attractiveness of their proposal.

"You will be so good as to present our regards to the mistress of the
manse," said one of them, as they rose to go.

"Thank you, it will give me great pleasure," I responded; "my wife is a
Southerner. Her father, who is not living now, fought at Gettysburg. My
wife's standing instruction is to say that he was not killed in battle,
for that was many years ago, and she has the Southern instinct for
youth."

"And the Southern talent for it too, I reckon," the courtly
gentleman replied. "We are mighty glad to hear that she belongs to
us. Surely we will have a friend at Court. Let her be considered our
plenipotentiary-extraordinary. Does her heart still turn towards her
Southern home?"

"I am sure it does," I made reply, "but it has been long garrisoned
within these rock-bound walls, and I know she has come to love them. I
have often heard her say that there is no trellis for Southern vines
like these mountainous hearts, true and faithful as the eternal hills
themselves."

"I don't wonder at it," another of the deputation interposed. "From what
I have seen and learned of these folk, I think they are our nearest kin.
The Scotch and the Southern nature are alike, the same intensity of
feeling, but with them it glows and burns,