Poor Evan, who had never heard any other religious music than the humble Presbyterian psalm in Lochisla kirk, was for some time struck with a feeling of such awe, that he scarcely dared to lift his eyes, lest he should encounter the formidable gaze of some spirit or divinity standing on the altar; and the wonderful sound of the music caused his bold heart to shrink, although he could have heard, without his courage failing, the roar of a thousand pieces of cannon. However, when the music ceased, and he had recovered his usual self-possession, the native prejudices and inherent sourness of the true Presbyterian assumed its ascendency in his mind. "O sir, is this no an unco kirk?" he whispered from behind. "Gude guide us! never will I trust myself within the yett o’ ane mair. Just look, sir, at that puir papist Pedro, how he yammers, and counts his string o’ yellow beads ower and ower again. O’d, sir, this ding’s a’! And look at the pictures, the images, and a’ that: it’s just a temptin’ o’ Providence to trust oursels inside o’ this nest o’ papistry, idolatry, and deevildom. Hech me, sir, what would the auld men and caillochs in the clachan o’ Lochisla think or say if they kenned we were here? And what would our decent body o’ a minister, auld maister Mucklewhame, think o’ that chield’s awfu’ blatter o’ lang nebbit words?" Ronald had often motioned him to be silent, and he now ceased as the sub-prior, a black-browed priest of the order of St. Francis of Assisi, ascended barefooted, the marble steps which led to the lofty pulpit. He was attired in the garb of his order, a grey gown and cowl of woollen stuff, girt about his middle with a knotted cord of discipline. His chaplet hung at his girdle, and his cowl, falling over his neck, displayed his swarthy features, coal-black hair, and shaven scalp. At the same time, Ronald encountered the smiling glances which the keen bright eyes of the ladies bestowed on him, as they watched from time to time the impression made upon him by the solemnity of their church service. The sermon of the Franciscan was filled more with politics and invectives against the French and their emperor, than religious matters, dwelling emphatically on the singular addition made by the priests to the Spanish Catechism at that time,—"to love all mankind, excepting Frenchmen, of whom it was their duty to kill as many as possible."[*] [*] See "Memoirs of the War in Spain, from 1808 to 1814; by Marshal Suchet, Duke d’Albufera." "Well, Evan, what think you of the discourse?" said Ronald, in the low voice in which the groups clustered round the columns generally conversed. "I dare say the Spanish sounds very singular to your ear." "Ay, sir; it puts me in mind o’ an auld saying o’ my faither the piper. ’A soo may whussle, but its mouth is no made for’t.’ O’d, sir, I wadna gie the bonnie wee kirk at Lochisla, wi’ its grassy grave-yard, whar we used to play on the sabbath mornings, for a’ the kirks in Spain, forbye—"