“You never did anything of the kind, Burnbrae,” said the doctor huskily. “I wish to God we were all as good men,” and the Free Kirk elder and the Moderate minister clasped hands across the open Bible. Then the doctor cleared his throat with great majesty, and gave out the Hundred-and-thirty-third Psalm:
“Behold how good a thing it is,
And how becoming well,
Together, such as brethren are
In unity to dwell.”
And the sweet sound of Eastgate floated out on the peaceful air of the Glen, where the harvest moon was shining upon fields of gold.
A MANIFEST JUDGMENT
When the practice of Drumtochty was advertised, and the duties defined by geography—the emoluments being treated with marked reserve—the medical profession did not contend in a body for the post, and it was more than a year before William Maclure had a successor. During the interregnum temporary physicians of varied experience and erratic character took charge of our health for short periods, and the Glen had experiences which are still fondly cherished, and afforded Elspeth Macfadyen the raw material for some of her most finished products. One of these worthies was a young gentleman twenty-four years of age and of Irish descent, whose thirst for fees and hatred of anything beyond the minimum of labour bordered on genius. It was he who declined to enter Lizzie Taylor's house, although sent for in the most interesting circumstances, and discoursed outside the door with a volubility that seemed almost Satanic, till he had received an earnest of ten shillings in fourteen coins of the realm. Perhaps the Glen was more indignant when Dr. O'Bralligan declined to rise one night and go to Glen Urtach, “not even if his sainted grandmother came to ask him, riding on-the back of the Angel Gabriel.”
“It 'ill no be Gabriel 'at 'ill tak chairge o' him,” said Janies Soutar succinctly. And the feeling in the kirkyard was so decided that O'Bralligan left within a week, explaining to Peter Bruce at the Junction that the people of Drumtochty were the “most oudacious and on-reasonable set o' blackguards” he had ever seen.
His successor had enjoyed the remarkable privilege of ministering in a fleeting capacity to the health of sixty-three parishes during a professional practice of under twenty years, and retained through all vicissitudes a pronounccd Glasgow accent, and an unquenchable thirst for distilled liquors. Dr. Murchieson was not greedy about fees, and had acquired considerable skill in his eventful life, so the Glen endured him for three months, but used him with precautions.
“Gin ye catch him gaein' east,” Hillocks summed up, “he's as quiet a man as ye wud wish, and skilly tae, but comin' wast he's clean redeeklus; last nicht,” added Hillocks, “he wes cairyin' his hat on the pint o' his stick an' singin' 'Scots wha hae.'”