After his marvelous salvation, he devoted his life to the service of God by entering that remarkable body of lay evangelists attached to the Presbyterian Church in Highland parishes, called “The Men,” and he became noted throughout the Hebrides for his labors, and for his knowledge of the Scriptures.

Circumstances, that summer, had thrown us together; I, a young woman, just entering an apparently fortunate life; he, an aged saint, standing on the borderland of eternity.  And we were sitting together, in the gray summer gloaming, when he said to me, “Thou art silent to-night.  What hast thou, then, on thy mind?”

“I had a strange dream.  I cannot shake off its influence.  Of course it is folly, and I don’t believe in dreams at all.”  And it was then he said to me, “It is the King’s highway that we are in, and know this, His messengers are on it.”

“But it was only a dream.”

“Well, God speaks to His children ’in dreams, and by the oracles that come in darkness.’”

“He used to do so.”

“Wilt thou then say that He has ceased so to speak to men?  Now, I will tell thee a thing that happened; I will tell thee just the bare facts; I will put nothing to, nor take anything away from them.

“’Tis, five years ago the first day of last June.  I was in Stornoway in the Lews, and I was going to the Gairloch Preachings.  It was rough, cheerless weather, and all the fishing fleet were at anchor for the night, with no prospect of a fishing.  The fishers were sitting together talking over the bad weather, but, indeed, without that bitterness that I have heard from landsmen when it would be the same trouble with them.  So I gathered them into Donald Brae’s cottage, and we had a very good hour.  I noticed a stranger in the corner of the room, and some one told me he was one of those men who paint pictures, and I saw that he was busy with a pencil and paper even while we were at the service.  But the next day I left for the Preachings, and I thought no more of him, good or bad.

“On the first of September I was in Oban.  I had walked far and was very tired, but I went to John MacNab’s cottage, and, after I had eat my kippered herring and drank my tea, I felt better.  Then I talked with John about the resurrection of the body, for he was in a tribulation of thoughts and doubts as to whether our Lord had a permanent humanity or not.

“And I said to him, John, Christ redeemed our whole nature, and it is this way:  the body being ransomed, as well as the spirit, by no less a price than the body of Christ, shall be equally cleansed and glorified.  Now, then, after I had gone to my room, I was sitting thinking of these things, and of no other things whatever.  There was not a sound but that of the waves breaking among the rocks, and drawing the tinkling pebbles down the beach after them.  Then the ears of my spiritual body were opened, and I heard these words, ’I will go with thee to Glasgow!’ Instead of saying to the heavenly message, ‘I am ready!’ I began to argue with myself thus:  ’Whatever for should I go to Glasgow?  I know not anyone there.  No one knows me.  I have duties at Portsee not to be left.  I have no money for such a journey—­’