in St. Andrews' Ha'? Your words flew like arrows--every ane o' them to
its mark; and your heart burned and your e'en glowed, till we were a' on
fire with you, and there wasna a lad there that wouldna hae followed you
to the vera Equator. I wouldna dare to bury such a power for good,
Davie, no, not though I buried it fathoms deep in gold."

From such interviews as these Davie went home very miserable. If it had
not been for Mary Moir he would certainly have gone back to his old seat
by Willie Caird in the Theological Hall. But Mary had such splendid
dreams of their life in London, and she looked in her hope and beauty so
bewitching, that he could not bear to hint a disappointment to her.
Besides, he doubted whether she was really fit for a minister's wife,
even if he should take up the cross laid down before him--and as for
giving up Mary, he would not admit to himself that there could be a
possible duty in such a contingency.

But that even his father had doubts and hesitations was proven to David
by the contradictory nature of his advice and charges. Thus on the
morning he left Glasgow, and as they were riding together to the
Caledonian station, the old man said, "Your uncle has given you a seat
in his bank, Davie, and you'll mak' room for yoursel' to lie down, I'se
warrant. But you'll no forget that when a guid man thrives a' should
thrive i' him; and giving for God's sake never lessens the purse."

"I am but one in a world full, father. I hope I shall never forget to
give according to my prosperings."

"Tak the world as it is, my lad, and no' as it ought to be; and never
forget that money is money's brither--an' you put two pennies in a purse
they'll creep thegither.