"Oh!" they exclaimed, "wasn't it like a real Christian to own that he was wrang; and didn't he look rale bonny when he was daein' it?" And they all agreed that it was Gilbert Strang, who by his wonderful cleverness had opened the minister's eyes, and made him see that it was his duty to confess.
On the Monday afterwards, Gilbert was ploughing the Five-Acre Lea. To one fond of rustic associations it was a pleasant picture; the pair of horses sleek and well-fed, bending their heads over their strong chests, lifting their legs leisurely and together, and pulling the plough slowly through the stiff loam; the knife-like coulter evenly cutting a narrow strip of the green turf; the shining share turning it over and forming another long ridge of fresh earth; the man holding steadily the plough-tails and looking contented and happy; and over all, the sombre sky of a winter afternoon gradually darkening towards the dusk. As he was turning the plough at the headrig, he heard himself hailed in a cheery voice. He looked round, and there was Manson of the Hole, with his face in a broad grin of delight.
Shaking the ploughman's hand, and then slapping him vehemently on the shoulder, he roared out, "Eh, man, ye're an awfu' billy. This is an age o' novelties, and ye've brocht aboot ane o' the greatest o' them a'. A minister standin' in the poopit and confessin' to his folk that he had been wrang! Wha ever heard the like? It's an event in the history o' the kirk. And the man that had the head and the tongue to manage a' this—here he is, wastin' himsel on wark that the stupidest clod-happer could dae. By the Lord Hairy! it's no' richt! You should hae been a minister yersel, settin' them a lesson o' straightforwardness; and as sure as I am a livin' sinner they require it. Man! I'll tell ye what I'll dae. I'm no' a rich man, but I'll lend ye twa hunder pounds to gang to the college; and ye can pay it back whenever it suits ye. Ye needna hurry."
Strang was taken aback; and for about a minute was silent, fascinated evidently by the prospect which had thus suddenly been called up before him. At last he said:
"Mr Manson! dae ye really mean that? It's awfu' generous; and I'm half inclined to tak yer offer. But no, the kirk is no' my trade; the harness wadna sit easy. Nor yet the schule; my nerves wadna stand a' the tear and wear that's required to stir up a' kinds o' young brains. Besides, I canna gie up an open air country life. It has nearly a' the advantages I care aboot. We get the great natural medicines—fresh air, sunlight, pure water, perfect quiet, and sound sleep. We hae the best food; for what could be mair nourishin' than milk, eggs, and oatmeal, all fresh and unadulterated? And we hae the best opportunities (if we only hae the gumption to tak them) of improvin' oor minds, for we live in the workshop o' nature, and see the coontless wonders which she is producin' a' the year roond."
"But dae ye no' think it richt," asked Manson, "to raise yersel as sae mony hae dune, to a higher position in society?"
"Weel," replied Strang slowly, "I'm no' jist sure aboot that. It seems to me a kind o' selfishness. Should we no' think o' raisin' others? We owe a duty to oorsels, nae doot, but also to those wha hae produced us and brocht us up. That's the true way in which the masses are to be raised—not by being patronised by their superiors, but by being led onwards and upwards by men of their own class. Not that I think I could ever lead them; but I could assist them that are really able to lead them."
"Weel," said Manson, going away, "my offer is still afore ye, whenever ye like to tak it."
Year after year passed away, and Gilbert Strang continued most religiously to save every penny that he could. When his hoardings amounted to a handsome sum, he looked for some way of laying them out at interest. Now, there was in Mr MacGuffog's congregation a Mr Melville, a lawyer and banker of unquestionable respectability, a prominent elder in the kirk, and the brother of a celebrated D.D. To many of the church members he had become the guide, philosopher, and friend. Besides giving them his advice, he took charge of their spare cash and got an investment for it. To this gentleman Strang had no hesitation in committing his hard-earned money, with the injunction, that the interest when it fell due was to be added to the principal, and the aggregate sum in this way allowed to accumulate. At the end of five years, his affairs had prospered so well that he saw a prospect of buying back his inheritance. He would borrow a sum from Manson, giving him in return a bond upon the property; and that sum added to his savings would make up the purchase money. He had got Manson's hearty consent, he had instructed Mr Melville to realise his investments, and he had written to his mother to tell her the joyful tidings, and to say that he would be over at her house on Saturday evening to discuss the whole matter.
It was a beautiful day at the end of June, and Strang was busy among the haymakers in the Bog. The occasion was important; and all the inmates of the farm—master and servants, old and young, men and women, and even the dogs—were engaged. Amidst a perpetual ripple of gossip, joke, and laughter, they merrily turned over the tanned grass, put it up in cocks (or, as it was called in that district, coles), and carefully raking the cleared space, made the field look tidy and fresh. The sight of the abundant and well-conditioned crop; the delightful scent that arose from it; the twitter of the swallows that wheeled around; and above all the glorious weather, exhilarated every soul. And when the cart, driven by Jim Lochty and containing the dinner, appeared at the gate of the field, they laughed aloud in their joy; for what can be more delightful to a hungry human creature than the prospect of being seated on a heap of fragrant hay with a large bap in one hand and a tankard of nut-brown ale in the other. But what was the matter with Jim? He was all excitement. He had evidently something startling to tell; and, like your ordinary bearer of sensational news, even when it is bad, he had a sort of grim pleasure in delivering it. Before he came up he cried out:—