Winter Evening Tales | Page 4

o' a
bird an' a raspberry tartlet will be nane out o' the way." David was of
the same opinion. He was very willing to enjoy Janet's good things and
the pleasant light and warmth. Besides, Janet was his oldest confidant
and friend--a friend that had never failed him in any of his boyish
troubles or youthful scrapes.
It gave her pleasure enough for a while to watch him eat, but when he
pushed aside the bird and stretched out his hand for the raspberry
dainties, she said, "Now talk a bit, my lad. If others hae wared money
on you, I hae wared love, an' I want to ken whether you are going to
college, or whether you are going to Lunnon amang the proud, fause
Englishers?"
"I am going to London, Janet."
"Whatna for?"
"I am not sure that I have any call to be a minister, Janet--it is a solemn
charge."
"Then why not ask for a sure call? There is nae key to God's council
chamber that I ken of."
"Mary wants me to go to London."
"Ech, sirs! Sets Deacon Moir's dochter to send a lad a wrang road. I
wouldna hae thocht wi' her bringing up she could hae swithered for a
moment--but it's the auld, auld story; where the deil canna go by
himsel' he sends a woman. And David Lockerby will tyne his

inheritance for a pair o' blue e'en and a handfu' o' gowden curls. Waly!
waly! but the children o' Esau live for ever."
"Mary said,"--
"I dinna want to hear what Mary said. It would hae been nae loss if
she'd ne'er spoken on the matter; but if you think makin' money, an'
hoarding money is the measure o' your capacity you ken yousel', sir,
dootless. Howsomever you'll go to your ain room now; I'm no going to
keep my auld e'en waking just for a common business body."
Thus in spite of his father's support, David did not find his road to
London as fair and straight as he could have wished. Janet was deeply
offended at him, and she made him feel it in a score of little ways very
annoying to a man fond of creature comforts and human sympathy. His
mother went about the necessary preparations in a tearful mood that
was a constant reproach, and his friend Willie did not scruple to tell
him that "he was clean out o' the way o' duty."
"God has given you a measure o' St. Paul's power o' argument, Davie,
and the verra tongue o' Apollos--weapons wherewith to reason against
all unrighteousness and to win the souls o' men."
"Special pleading, Willie."
"Not at all. Every man's life bears its inscription if he will take the
trouble to read it. There was James Grahame, born, as you may say, wi'
a sword in his hand, and Bauldy Strang wi' a spade, and Andrew
Semple took to the balances and the 'rithmetic as a duck takes to the
water. Do you not mind the day you spoke anent the African missions
to the young men in St. Andrews' Ha'? Your words flew like
arrows--every ane o' them to its mark; and your heart burned and your
e'en glowed, till we were a' on fire with you, and there wasna a lad
there that wouldna hae followed you to the vera Equator. I wouldna
dare to bury such a power for good, Davie, no, not though I buried it
fathoms deep in gold."
From such interviews as these Davie went home very miserable. If it

had not been for Mary Moir he would certainly have gone back to his
old seat by Willie Caird in the Theological Hall. But Mary had such
splendid dreams of their life in London, and she looked in her hope and
beauty so bewitching, that he could not bear to hint a disappointment to
her. Besides, he doubted whether she was really fit for a minister's wife,
even if he should take up the cross laid down before him--and as for
giving up Mary, he would not admit to himself that there could be a
possible duty in such a contingency.
But that even his father had doubts and hesitations was proven to David
by the contradictory nature of his advice and charges. Thus on the
morning he left Glasgow, and as they were riding together to the
Caledonian station, the old man said, "Your uncle has given you a seat
in his bank, Davie, and you'll mak' room for yoursel' to lie down, I'se
warrant. But you'll no forget that when a guid man thrives a' should
thrive i' him; and giving for God's sake never lessens the purse."
"I am but one in a world full, father. I hope I shall never forget to