Winter Evening Tales | Page 2

learning, and pleasant old courts full of the
"air of still delightful studies."
From this building came out two young men in academic costume. One
of them set his face dourly against the clammy fog and drizzling rain,
breathing it boldly, as if it was the balmiest oxygen; the other,
shuddering, drew his scarlet toga around him and said, mournfully,
"Ech, Davie, the High street is an ill furlong on the de'il's road! I never
tread it, but I think o' the weary, weary miles atween it and Eden."
"There is no road without its bad league, Willie, and the High street has
its compensations; its prison for ill-doers, its learned college, and its
holy High Kirk. I am one of St. Mungo's bairns, and I'm not above
preaching for my saint."

"And St. Mungo will be proud of your birthday yet, Davie. With such a
head and such a tongue, with knowledge behind, and wit to the fore,
there is a broad road and an open door for David Lockerby. You may
come even to be the Lord Rector o' Glasgow College yet."
"Wisdom is praised and starves; I am thinking it would set me better to
be Lord Provost of Glasgow city."
"The man who buried his one talent did not go scatheless, Davie; and
what now if he had had ten?"
"You are aye preaching, Willie, and whiles it is very untimeous. Are
you going to Mary Moir's to-night?"
"Why should I? The only victory over love is through running away."
David looked sharply at his companion but as they were at the Trongate
there was no time for further remark. Willie Caird turned eastward
toward Glasgow Green, David hailed a passing omnibus and was soon
set down before a handsome house on the Sauchiehall Road. He went
in by the back door, winning from old Janet, in spite of herself, the
grimmest shadow of a smile.
"Are my father and mother at home, Janet?"
"Deed are they, the mair by token that they hae been quarreling anent
you till the peacefu' folks like mysel' could hae wished them mair sense,
or further away."
"Why should they quarrel about me?"
"Why, indeed, since they'll no win past your ain makin' or marring? But
the mistress is some kin to Zebedee's wife, I'm thinking, and she wad
fain set you up in a pu'pit and gie you the keys o' St. Peter; while
maister is for haeing you it a bank or twa in your pouch, and add
Ellenmount to Lockerby, and--"
"And if I could, Janet?"

"Tut, tut, lad! If it werna for 'if' you might put auld Scotland in a
bottle."
"But what was the upshot, Janet?"
"I canna tell. God alone understan's quarreling folk."
Then David went upstairs to his own room, and when he came down
again his face was set as dourly against the coming interview as it had
been against the mist and rain. The point at issue was quite familiar to
him; his mother wished him to continue his studies and prepare for the
ministry. In her opinion the greatest of all men were the servants of the
King, and a part of the spiritual power and social influence which they
enjoyed in St. Mungo's ancient city she earnestly coveted for her son.
"Didn't the Bailies and the Lord Provost wait for them? And were not
even the landed gentry and nobles obligated to walk behind a minister
in his gown and bands?"
Old Andrew Lockerby thought the honor good enough, but money was
better. All the twenty years that his wife had been dreaming of David
ruling his flock from the very throne of a pulpit, Andrew had been
dreaming of him becoming a great merchant or banker, and winning
back the fair lands of Ellenmount, once the patrimonial estate of the
house of Lockerby. During these twenty years both husband and wife
had clung tenaciously to their several intentions.
Now David's teachers--without any knowledge of these diverse
influences--had urged on him the duty of cultivating the unusual talents
confided to him, and of consecrating them to some noble service of
God and humanity. But David was ruled by many opposite feelings,
and had with all his book-learning the very smallest intimate
acquaintance with himself. He knew neither his strong points nor his
weak ones, and had not even a suspicion of the mighty potency of that
mysterious love for gold which really was the ruling passion in his
breast.
The argument so long pending he knew was now to be finally settled,
and he was by no means unprepared for the discussion. He came slowly

down stairs, counting the points he wished to make on his fingers, and
quite resolved neither to be coaxed nor bullied out of his own
individual opinion.