I. THE BUIK

Walter Carmichael often says in these latter days that his life owed
much of its bent to his first days of the week at Drumquhat.

The Sabbath morning broke over the farm like a benediction. It was a
time of great stillness and exceeding peace. It was, indeed, generally
believed in the parish that Mrs. M'Quhirr had trained her cocks to crow
in a fittingly subdued way upon that day. To the boy the Sabbath light
seemed brighter. The necessary duties were earlier gone about, in order
that perfect quiet might surround the farm during all the hours of the
day. As Walter is of opinion that his youthful Sabbaths were so
important, it may be well to describe one of them accurately. It will
then be obvious that his memory has been playing him tricks, and that he
has remembered only those parts of it which tell somewhat to his
credit--a common eccentricity of memories.

It is a thousand pities if in this brief chronicle Walter should be
represented as a good boy. He was seldom so called by the authorities
about Drumquhat. There he was usually referred to as "that loon," "the
_hyule_" "Wattie, ye mischéevious boy." For he was a stirring lad, and
his restlessness frequently brought him into trouble. He remembers his
mother's Bible lessons on the green turn of the loaning by the road, and
he is of opinion now that they did him a great deal of good. It is not
for an outside historian to contradict him; but it is certain that his
mother had to exercise a good deal of patience to induce him to give due
attention, and a species of suasion that could hardly be called moral to
make him learn his verses and his psalm.

Indeed, to bribe the boy with the promise of a book was the only way of