In the press of my hurry, and to be spared the delay and annoyance
of a guide, I had followed (so far as it was possible for any
horseman) the line of my journey with Alan. This I did with open
eyes, foreseeing a great risk in it, which the tempest had now
brought to a reality. The last that I knew of where I was, I think
it must have been about Uam Var; the hour perhaps six at night. I
must still think it great good fortune that I got about eleven to
my destination, the house of Duncan Dhu. Where I had wandered in
the interval perhaps the horse could tell. I know we were twice
down, and once over the saddle and for a moment carried away in a
roaring burn. Steed and rider were bemired up to the eyes.
From Duncan I had news of the trial. It was followed in all these
Highland regions with religious interest; news of it spread from
Inverary as swift as men could travel; and I was rejoiced to learn
that, up to a late hour that Saturday it was not yet concluded; and
all men began to suppose it must spread over the Monday. Under the
spur of this intelligence I would not sit to eat; but, Duncan
having agreed to be my guide, took the road again on foot, with the
piece in my hand and munching as I went. Duncan brought with him a
flask of usquebaugh and a hand-lantern; which last enlightened us
just so long as we could find houses where to rekindle it, for the
thing leaked outrageously and blew out with every gust. The more
part of the night we walked blindfold among sheets of rain, and day
found us aimless on the mountains. Hard by we struck a hut on a
burn-side, where we got bite and a direction; and, a little before
the end of the sermon, came to the kirk doors of Inverary.
The rain had somewhat washed the upper parts of me, but I was still
bogged as high as to the knees; I streamed water; I was so weary I
could hardly limp, and my face was like a ghost's. I stood
certainly more in need of a change of raiment and a bed to lie on,
than of all the benefits in Christianity. For all which (being
persuaded the chief point for me was to make myself immediately
public) I set the door of the church with the dirty Duncan at my
tails, and finding a vacant place sat down.
"Thirteently, my brethren, and in parenthesis, the law itself must
be regarded as a means of grace," the minister was saying, in the
voice of one delighting to pursue an argument.
The sermon was in English on account of the assize. The judges
were present with their armed attendants, the halberts glittered in
a corner by the door, and the seats were thronged beyond custom
with the array of lawyers. The text was in Romans 5th and 13th--
the minister a skilled hand; and the whole of that able churchful--
from Argyle, and my Lords Elchies and Kilkerran, down to the
halbertmen that came in their attendance--was sunk with gathered
brows in a profound critical attention. The minister himself and a
sprinkling of those about the door observed our entrance at the
moment and immediately forgot the same; the rest either did not
hear or would not hear or would not be heard; and I sat amongst my
friends and enemies unremarked.
The first that I singled out was Prestongrange. He sat well
forward, like an eager horseman in the saddle, his lips moving with
relish, his eyes glued on the minister; the doctrine was clearly to
his mind. Charles Stewart, on the other hand, was half asleep, and
looked harassed and pale. As for Simon Fraser, he appeared like a
blot, and almost a scandal, in the midst of that attentive
congregation, digging his hands in his pockets, shifting his legs,
clearing his throat, and rolling up his bald eyebrows and shooting
out his eyes to right and left, now with a yawn, now with a secret
smile. At times, too, he would take the Bible in front of him, run
it through, seem to read a bit, run it through again, and stop and
yawn prodigiously: the whole as if for exercise.