He had come, he told me, straight from his home and birthplace, a small village in the north of Scotland, shut out from the world by great hills where the heather grew knee-deep.

He had never been in England before, and had come directly to Salisbury on a visit to a relation.
"Well," I said, "now you have looked at it outside come in with me and see the interior." But he refused: it was enough for one day to see the outside of such a building: he wanted no more just then.

To-morrow would be soon enough to see it inside; it would be the Sabbath and he would go and worship there.
"Are you an Anglican ?" I asked.
He replied that there were no Anglicans in his village.

They had two Churches--the Church of Scotland and the Free Church.
"And what," said I, "will your minister say to your going to worship in a cathedral?
We have all denominations here in Salisbury, and you will perhaps find a Presbyterian place to worship in." "Now it's strange your saying that!" he returned, with a dry little laugh.

"I've just had a letter from him the morning and he writes on this varra subject.