'Let me advise you,' he tells me in the letter, 'to attend the service in Salisbury Cathedral.

Nae doot,' he says, 'there are many things in it you'll disapprove of, but not everything perhaps, and I'd like ye to go.'" I was a little sorry for him next day when we had an ordination service, very long, complicated, and, I should imagine, exceedingly difficult to follow by a wild Presbyterian from the hills.

He probably disapproved of most of it, but I greatly admired him for refusing to see anything more of the cathedral than the outside on the first day.

His method was better than that of an American (from Indiana, he told me) I met the following day at the hotel.

He gave two hours and a half, including attendance at the morning service, to the cathedral, inside and out, then rushed off for an hour at Stonehenge, fourteen miles away, on a hired bicycle.