The controversy about these bits of painted canvas interested every one in

the village; for though Allan talked beautifully about "looking up"

through nature unto nature's God, it was a new doctrine to the Fife

fishers; who had always looked for God in their Bibles, and their

consciences. Except in rare cases, it was impossible for them to conceive

how painting might be a Gate Beautiful to the temple.

Indeed Elder John Mackelvine, a dour, stern, old Calvinist, was of opinion

that every picture was a breaking of the second commandment--"A makin' o'

an image and likeness o' the warks o' God, and sae, neither mair nor less

than idolatry. Forbye, pictur's are pairfectly ridic'lus," he continued;

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"what for, will you want the image o' a thing, when you hae the thing

itsel'? John Knox kent weel what he was doing when he dinged doon a' the

pictur's and images in thae auld kirks. He kent men were aye mair pleased

to worship their ain handywark, than the Creator's."

David listened with many misgivings, but he ventured to say that, "there

was nae thocht o' idolatry in Allan Campbell's heart."

"You'll dootless ken a' aboot it, Davie," answered Mackelvine scornfully;

"but you'll no deny that he was sae set up wi' the pictur' he made o'

Largo Bay, that he might just as weel hae bowed doon to it. The

Everlasting hills! The everlasting seas!" said the old fisher, man, rising

And stretching upward and outward his bare, brown arm, "put them in a

paintin'! Pairfect nonsense! Even-down sin!"

From this conversation David went directly home. It was Saturday night and

the boats all in harbor for the Sabbath day. The house place was

spotlessly clean, the evening meal waiting. As soon as David spoke to his

sister, Allan opened his door and called him. "Come here, David Promoter,

I want to show you something."

David guessed that it was a new picture, and he went a little reluctantly.

"This is an 'interior', David," he said excitedly; "it is the first I have

ever tried, and I am so pleased with the result;--what do you think of

it?"

David slowly approached the easel. The picture represented faithfully the

living room of his own cottage. All its breadths of light and shade, all

its telling contrasts, were used skilfully as a background for Maggie. She

was gazing with a white anxious face out of the little window seaward,

watching the gathering storm, and the fishing boats trying to make the

harbor through it.

"What do you think of it, David?"

"It is wonderfu', sir; but I dinna approve o' it. I think you will hae nae

right to put the fear o' death and dool, and the breaking hearts o' women

into a pictur'. Forbye, you might sell it, and I wouldna like my sister--no

to speak o' my hame--to be turned into siller. And there's mair to say,

sir. Some o' oor folk think it isna lawfu' in the sight o' God to mak' the

image o' anything; and seeing, sir, that I humbly hope some day to stand

upon the altar steps, it would ill become me to hurt the conscience o'

auld or young. I must walk circumspect for the vera hope's sake."




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