A Daughter of Fife

When John Campbell returned, he found Mary still in the parlor. She was

playing some noisy, mechanical "variation," whose rapid execution was a

physical vent for her chagrin and disappointment. She rose with alacrity,

rang for hot water, brewed his toddy, and affected the greatest interest

in the kirk meeting. Indeed she was interested in it; for the gathering

had been to consider whether John Campbell's offer of an organ, and her

own offer of her services as organist, could be accepted by the church.

"It was hopeless from the first," said Campbell with a queer smile; "every

shepherd in Bute was there to protest. You would have thought I had

proposed a Popish Mass Book, or at least an Episcopal Litany. There will

be no 'music boxes' in Bute kirks this generation, Mary. And, would you

believe it, the minister was dead against it?"

"I thought he favored an organ in the choir?"

"I was always uncertain about him. I never could interest him in the

subject. He would listen, and shake his head, or say, 'just so, sir,' or

refer to a session in which all could say the word in their heart; and so

on. To-night, after an opening prayer, in which he took the liberty to

remind the Lord of all the spiritual dangers connected with praising Him

with instruments of our own handiwork, he stood up and said, 'I'm not in

favor of any music with the Psalms of David, they are far better without

it. And if I were willing for the organ box, we are a poor kirk, and could

not afford to rob our stipendary and mission funds to pay a man player on

instruments; and as for women interfering with the ordinances in any way,

you all know what St. Paul says on that subject.' And, of course, when the

minister talks with the people's prejudices, he is omnipotent."

"Was it put to the vote?"

"Yes. Two of the congregation, Burns of Blantree, and myself, stood up

when the organ was proposed; the rest sat grim and dour. Nothing less than

an earthquake could have made them stir. When those opposed to an organ

were requested to rise, they stood up solid as a phalanx, and firm as a

stone wall. I wish Allan had gone with me. Where is the lad?"

"He bade me 'good-by' some time since. I dare say he has several things to

do in his rooms. A man cannot go away for two years and leave his

treasures to moths, and dust, and unchecked decay. Uncle, how soon can we

begin to build at Drumloch? This organ business has made me lose sympathy

with the Meriton people:--and I want something to do, Uncle John,

something to think about, and look after."