“I mind weel,” said Bell, “he had a wand and a tunin’ fork.”  Are these not the recognized signs of ability, all the world over, to conduct a band of singers?  The practices were held in the priest’s house; sometimes the pastor would join in the singing, although Bell naively remarked on that point: 

“He hadna much ear for music, ye ken.”

Of the priest of that day, “Mr.”  McGillivray, as the old style of address ran, more will be said later.  The figure next in prominence to him in Bell’s recollections was the old sacristan, Robbie Benzie.  For many years he acted as “clerk” at the altar, continuing to carry out his duties when well advanced in years.  During the week he carried on his trade of weaver; on Sundays he was at his post betimes, carrying a lantern with him, from which he took the light for the altar candles.  Bell describes him as a stalwart man with fine features and dark eyes.  Clad in his green tartan plaid, he always accompanied the priest round the little chapel with the holy water for the Asperges, and with his “lint-white locks” flowing onto his neck, he used to appear in Bell’s eyes “a deal mair imposin’ lookin’ ner the priest himsel’.”  His modest and respectful bearing gained him the esteem of all.  “I always think of him,” said Bell, “as one o’ the saints of th’ olden times, ye ken.  He was the model of a guid Catholic—­pious, hard-workin’, and aye happy and contented.”

In those far-off days Ardmuirland was entirely Catholic.  The Faith, in consequence, was an integral part of the life of the district, and the priest the recognized potentate, whom every one was at all times ready to serve—­working on his croft, plowing, harvesting, and such like—­with cheerful promptitude.  Any such labor, when required, was requested by the priest from the altar on Sunday.

“I shall be glad to receive help this week on the glebe-land,” he would announce.  “You will kindly arrange the division of labor among yourselves.”

The same would happen when the time came for cutting and storing up peats for the winter fuel.  The day and hour would be named, and all who could possibly help would be at the hill punctually to take their respective shares in the labor.

It was on one such occasion that the incident occurred which struck me as the culminating point of Bell’s recollections.  I cannot give it as dramatically as she did, and if I attempted to do so the pathos would be marred by the broad Doric—­unintelligible to southrons—­in which her narrative was told; but I will reproduce it as faithfully as possible in my own words.