is kindness tae us."

[Illustration: HE HAD LEFT HIS OVERCOAT AND WAS IN BLACK]

"You make too much of it, Drumsheugh," and the clear, firm voice was
heard of all; "it would have taken more than a few snow drifts to keep
me from showing my respect to William MacLure's memory." When all had
gathered in a half circle before the kitchen door, Lord Kilspindie came
out--every man noticed he had left his overcoat, and was in black, like
the Glen--and took a place in the middle with Drumsheugh and Burnbrae,
his two chief tenants, on the right and left, and as the minister
appeared every man bared his head.

The doctor looked on the company--a hundred men such as for strength
and gravity you could hardly have matched in Scotland--standing out in
picturesque relief against the white background, and he said:

"It's a bitter day, friends, and some of you are old; perhaps it might
be wise to cover your heads before I begin to pray."

Lord Kilspindie, standing erect and grey-headed between the two old men,
replied:

"We thank you, Dr. Davidson, for your thoughtfulness; but he endured
many a storm in our service, and we are not afraid of a few minutes'
cold at his funeral."

A look flashed round the stern faces, and was reflected from the
minister, who seemed to stand higher.

His prayer, we noticed with critical appreciation, was composed for the
occasion, and the first part was a thanksgiving to God for the life work
of our doctor, wherein each clause was a reference to his services and
sacrifices. No one moved or said Amen--it had been strange with us--but
when every man had heard the gratitude of his dumb heart offered to
heaven, there was a great sigh.

After which the minister prayed that we might have grace to live as this
man had done from youth to old age, not for himself, but for others,
and that we might be followed to our grave by somewhat of "that love
wherewith we mourn this day Thy servant departed." Again the same sigh,
and the minister said Amen. The "wricht" stood in the doorway without
speaking, and four stalwart men came forward. They were the volunteers
that would lift the coffin and carry it for the first stage. One was
Tammas, Annie Mitchell's man; and another was Saunders Baxter, for whose
life MacLure had his great fight with death; and the third was the Glen
Urtach shepherd for whose wife's sake MacLure suffered a broken leg and
three fractured ribs in a drift; and the fourth, a Dunleith man, had