I was strangely attracted by this old man. He was a gentle spirit, quick to take offence, often when none was meant, but equally quick to forget. He had a quaint humour, flashes of which lightened our converse as we walked together in the night, and he had all the confidence of a little child in the abiding love of God. As I parted with him one morning, he said: "I doubt you’ll no’ ken what day of the week this is." I was quick to confess my ignorance. "Well," he said, "it is Saturday, and ye’ll no’ hear me playing the nicht. On such a nicht one is too near the threshold of the Sabbath day lichtly to engage in sic a worldly amusement. However, if ye’ll come round to my side of the loch about the usual time, we’ll tak’ a bite o’ supper together--after that ye’d better leave me to my meditations in view of the Lord’s Day, for I am preaching the morn." "In which church, may I ask?" I said, forgetting for a moment where I was. "In the kirk of the moorland," he answered, "which has no roof but God’s heaven, and no altar but the loving hearts of men and women!" A sudden desire sprang up in my heart. "Sir," I said, hesitatingly, "I do not consider myself worthy, but I should count it a high honour if I may come with you." He paused before he answered: "The House is the Lord’s, He turns no man from His door: come, an you wish it." Then he laughed, and looking me up and down said: "Man, but you’re an awfu’ sicht if you are coming. Ye wadna like to appear before Lag in sic unsoldierly trappings: daur ye face God?" Then he laid a hand on my shoulder, and looking into my face with his piercing eyes, said: "The Lord tak’s nae pleasure in the looks o’ a man, and belike he pays little heed to claes or the beggar at the rich man’s gate wouldna have had much of a chance; it is the heart that counts, my lad, it is the heart, and a contrite heart He will not despise." Then he gripped me by the hand, and said: "Awa to your bed and come an’ look for me by and by, and syne we’ll set out for the kirk. It is a long road to travel and ye’ll need a good rest before we start." So I left him and made my way back to my own side of the loch. There I undressed and looked ruefully at my mud-bespattered garments. They certainly were far from that soldierly spotlessness of which I had been so proud when first I donned them. But the mud on them was quite dry, so I made a heather brush, and brushed them well. Then I took them down to the loch-side and washed out some of the more obstinate stains, then laying them to dry among the brackens I sought my bed. When I awoke night had fallen, so, leaving my hiding place, I sought my garments and put them on.