“We beseech Thee for such as be sick, that Thy hand may be on them for good, and that Thou wouldst restore them again to health and strength,” was the familiar petition of every Sabbath. The congregation waited in a silence that might be heard, and were not disappointed that morning, for the minister continued: “Especially we tender Thee hearty thanks that Thou didst spare Thy servant who was brought down into the dust of death, and hast given him back to his wife and children, and unto that end didst wonderfully bless the skill of him who goes out and in amongst us, the beloved physician of this parish and adjacent districts.” “Didna a’ tell ye, neeburs?” said Jamie, as they stood at the kirkyard gate before dispersing, “there’s no a man in the coonty cud hae dune it better. ‘Beloved physician,’ an’ his ‘skill,’ tae, an’ bringing in ‘adjacent districts’; that’s Glen Urtach; it wes handsome, and the doctor earned it, ay, every word. “It’s an awfu’ peety he didna hear yon; but dear knows whar he is the day, maist likely up——” Jamie stopped suddenly at the sound of a horse’s feet, and there, coming down the avenue of beech trees that made a long vista from the kirk gate, they saw the doctor and Jess. One thought flashed through the minds of the fathers of the commonwealth. It ought to be done as he passed, and it would be done if it were not Sabbath. Of course it was out of the question on Sabbath. The doctor is now distinctly visible, riding after his fashion. There was never such a chance, if it were only Saturday; and each man read his own regret in his neighbour’s face. The doctor is nearing them rapidly; they can imagine the shepherd’s tartan. Sabbath or no Sabbath, the Glen cannot let him pass without some tribute of their pride. Jess has recognised friends, and the doctor is drawing rein. “It hes tae be dune,” said Jamie desperately, “say what ye like.” Then they all looked towards him, and Jamie led. “Hurrah!” swinging his Sabbath hat in the air, “hurrah!” and once more, “hurrah!” Whinnie Knowe, Drumsheugh, and Hillocks joining lustily, but Tammas Mitchell carrying all before him, for he had found at last an expression for his feelings that rendered speech unnecessary. It was a solitary experience for horse and rider, and Jess bolted without delay. But the sound followed and surrounded them, and as they passed the corner of the kirkyard, a figure waved his college cap over the wall and gave a cheer on his own account. “God bless you, doctor, and well done!” “If it isna the minister,” cried Drumsheugh, “in his goon an’ bans; tae think o’ that; but a’ respeck him for it.”