“Div ye think, Bogleigh, that the Professor belongs tae yersel noo an' the gude wife,” broke in Jamie, “juist as if he were some ordinar' man? Na, na; gin a laddie gaes up frae the Glen tae the University, an' comes oot at the tap o' his classes, bringin' hame three medals ilka spring, an' opens secret things in nature that naebody kent afore, an' is selected by Government tae foond places o' learnin' ayont the sea, that laddie belangs tae Drumtochty. “Div ye mind the day his life wes in the London _Times_, and Drumsheugh read it at the Junction? 'This eminent man of science was born at Drumtochty in Perthshire, and received his early education at the parish school.'” “Ye hae't tae a word, Jamie,” said Drumsheugh, and passed his box, in name of the Glen, as it were, to Domsie. “Oor standin' measure,” concluded Jamie, “leavin' oot Airchie Moncur and masel, will rin tae aboot sax feet, but a' coontit that we gaed up the hill that nicht wi' fower inches a man tae spare. Whar 's that letter, Bogleigh?” After a feint of seeking it in his trousers, where he was as likely to carry it as the family Bible, David produced it from an inner breast pocket, wrapped in newspaper, and handed it to Domsie without a word. “Div ye want me tae read it?”--as if this had not been the schoolmaster's due. “Weel, weel, a 'll dae ma best,” and then Domsie laid himself out to do justice to the Professor's letter, while Drumtochty wagged its head in admiration. “Fellow of the Royal Society,” and Domsie became solemn to the height of reverence; “this cowes a'thing. A'm credibly informed that this is the highest honour given tae leam-in' in oor land; a 'ill be boond the 'll no be anither F.R.S. in sax coonties; may be no mair than twa or three in braid Scotland.” “It's the graundest thing the Glen's dune yet,” and Jamie took up the strain; “he 's M.A. already, an' some ither letters; ye cudna rin them ower?” Then Domsie gave John Ross's degrees one by one. “That comes tae five, makin' nae mention o' ither honours; there's thirty-one degrees in the Glen the noo, and John heads the list, if a' micht call a Professor by a laddie's name.” “Wha hes a better richt?” said the father, with much spirit; “ye laid the foondation o't a', an' he often said that himsel.” Opinion differed whether David or Domsie looked prouder in kirk that day, but Jamie inclined to Domsie, whom he had detected counting the degrees over again during the chapter. Four Sundays after David appeared in the kirkyard with such woe upon his face that Drumsheugh could only imagine one reason, and omitted preliminaries. “Naethin' wrang wi' the Professor, Bogleigh?” and Domsie held his pinch in mid air. “John wes deein' when this letter left, an' noo he 'ill maybe... be dead an' buried... his mither an' me were ower prood o' him, but ye ken hoo... gude,” and the old man broke down utterly.