inspiring in him the love of scriptural learning. There was a
book-packman who came from Balmathrapple once a month, and by the
promise of a new missionary map of the world (with the Protestants in
red, floating like cream on the top, and the pagans sunk in hopeless
black at the bottom) Wattie could be induced to learn nearly anything.
Walter was, however, of opinion that the map was a most imperfect
production. He thought that the portion of the world occupied by the
Cameronians ought to have been much more prominently charted. This
omission he blamed on Ned Kenna the bookman, who was a U.P.

Walter looked for the time when all the world, from great blank
Australia to the upper Icy Pole, should become Cameronian. He
anticipated an era when the black savages would have to quit eating one
another and learn the Shorter Catechism. He chuckled when he thought of
them attacking _Effectual Calling_.

But he knew his duty to his fellows very well, and he did it to the best
of his ability. It was, when he met a Free Kirk or Established boy, to
throw a stone at him; or alternatively, if the heathen chanced to be a
girl, to put out his tongue at her. This he did, not from any special
sense of superiority, but for the good of their souls.

When Walter awoke, the sun had long been up, and already all sounds of
labour, usually so loud, were hushed about the farm. There was a
breathless silence, and the boy knew even in his sleep that it was the
Sabbath morning. He arose, and unassisted arrayed himself for the day.
Then he stole forth, hoping that he would get his porridge before the
"buik" came on. Through the little end window he could see his
grandfather moving up and down outside, leaning on his staff--his tall,
stooped figure very clear against the background of beeches. As he went