“Methinks the spirit of evil is once more abroad,” I heard Telfair say in a shrill falsetto to his next neighbour as they sat at meat. “Rerrick hath seen nothing like it since the famous affair of the Ringcroft visitation, so fully recounted in my little pamphlet--which, as you are aware, has run through several editions, not alone in Scotland, but also among the wise and learned folk of London. The late King even ordered a copy for himself, and was pleased to say that he had never read anything like it in all his life before; and by the grace of God he never would again. Was not that a compliment from so great a prince?” “A compliment indeed,” cried Cameron of Kirkcudbright, nodding his head ironically, yet watching me all the time as I talked with Nathan Gemmell of Drumglass; “but what is this new portent?” “’Tis but the matter of a bairn-child near the village of Orraland, which, as all the world knows, is the heart of my parish. A bairn, the son of very respectable folk, looking out upon the moon, had a vision of a man in red apparel cutting the moon in two with a sword of flame, whereat the child screamed and ran in to its mother to tell the marvel. And as soon as they came to me, I said: ‘There is that to be done to-day which shall cut the Kirk of God in twain within the bounds of this Presbytery.’” “Truly a marvellous child, and of insight justly prophetic!” said Cameron, again nodding as he went about the ordering of his dinner and calling the waiting folk to be quick and set clean platters before the hungry Presbyters. “Now,” said Telfair, looking straight at me, “there hath nothing happened this week in the Presbytery save the ordaining of this young man. Think ye that through him there will come this breaking asunder of the Kirk?” Cameron smiled sardonically. “How can ye suppose it for a moment? Mr. MacClellan is a youth of remarkable promise and rumour. We have, indeed, yet to learn whether there be aught behind this sound and show of religion and respect for the authority of the Kirk.” All this time Drumglass was pouring forth without stint his joy at my settlement among them. “Be never feared for the face o’ man, young sir,” he cried. “Be bold to declare what ye think and believe, and gif ye ken what ye want and earnestly pursue it, tak’ auld Drumglass’ word for it, there are few things that ye may not attain in this world.” At long and last the day came to an end. The ministers of the Presbytery one by one took horse or ferry and so departed. I alone returned with Nathan Gemmell over to the house of Drumglass. For I was deadly wearied, and the voice of Nathan uplifted by the way to tell of old things was like the pleasant lappering of water on the sides of a boat in which one rocks and dreams. Indeed, I was scarce conscious of a word he said, till in the gloom of the trees and the creamy evening light, we met the two lasses, Jean and Alexander-Jonita walking arm in arm.