Some remarks dropped by the Free Church minister as to the priest’s “interference” with a member of his congregation drew forth so vehement a denial from Mr. McGillivray, and a demand for a public contradiction of the statement from the pulpit on the following Sunday, that the crestfallen minister had to eat his words.

The priest was indeed a match for any of his opponents in whatever way they chose to attack him.  Once at a dinner, when three ministers were present as well as Mr. McGillivray, one of them thought to make a butt of the priest, and during the after-dinner toasts proposed suddenly:  “The Auld Kirk!” But the priest was too quick for him.  Raising his glass, he responded promptly:  “The Auld Kirk—­the True Kirk!”

“No!  No!” cried the entrapped Presbyterian.

“Then I’m sorry for you!” was the quiet retort.

One feature in Bell’s recollections must not be passed over.  The priest was renowned as a peacemaker.  Anything like family strife was speedily put an end to by his tactful intervention.  Even by Protestants his services were not infrequently asked for in this respect, and the result was a great popularity with all classes in the district of Ardmuirland.  There was much pathos about the old man’s last days; for he hastened his end by his self-denying charity in the cause of peace.

A violent quarrel had taken place some years before between two Protestant farmers, both living some distance away from the priest’s house.  They had married two sisters, and a dispute had arisen on the subject of a legacy left to one of these nieces by their father’s brother, while the other was passed over entirely.  Suspicions and insinuations of underhand dealing on the part of the successful legatee had aroused strong feelings, with the result that all communication between the two families had ceased.

At length the wife of one of the belligerents lay upon her deathbed, and under the softening influence of that solemn hour she begged that her sister should be asked to visit her, that they might part as sisters should.  The other woman was just as anxious for a reconciliation, but their respective husbands could not be brought to terms.

In her distress the dying woman sent a message to the priest, begging for his intervention.  It was the dead of winter, and a severe frost had set in.  The old priest had to drive in a friendly farmer’s open vehicle for ten miles in a keen wind.  He succeeded in persuading one of the men to seek for peace and friendship, then drove on five miles farther to interview the other.  Through his earnest remonstrances the strife was entirely brought to an end.  But it was at the cost of the life of the aged peacemaker.  He caught a severe chill, which he was never able to throw off, and after two or three months he bade farewell to earth.