Three generations

NORMAN McLEOD 295
from gaiety to gravity, from the wildest, sheerest
nonsense to the most solemn considerations, so quickly
and so simply, without a particle of affectation and
without losing a shred of his sincerity, as McLeod
could do.
I had known him in Scotland, and received much
kindness from him in a season of great sorrow.
When I met him in London he was writing his good
story, " The Starling," part of which had already come
out in Good Words. He would carry the last proofs
in his pocket, not as Thackeray did, for innumerable
corrections, but to be referred to with an utter absence
of self-consciousness and with frank satisfaction. He
would dwell with relish on a half-imbecile character
that figured in the story, and say, " I am fond of Jock."
His innocent, irresistible humour and drollery came
out most strongly in the smoking-room, where he
would have all the party, men and women alike, join
him and enjoy themselves. He was an excellent mimic,
and would sing the songs of his own composition with
much feeling and taste. We were all fellow-Scots,
fellow-Church people, publishers and contributors,
immensely proud of McLeod as our leader.
Almost as a matter of course in the Scotland of his
day, he had to undergo a trial for heresy before his
Presbytery because of his broad Catholicity. But so
little of personal animosity existed on either side in
the case, rigidly stern and orthodox on the one hand,
generously and tenderly liberal on the other, that the
champion of orthodox}?- who had led the charge of
heresy against his erring brother took the chair at
a complimentary dinner given to the culprit by his
fellow-ministers before he sailed for India to examine
into the conditions of his Church's missions. How