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"While I was a-turnin' ober in my min' de subjec' ob dis sarmon, dere come ter me a bit ob Scripter wot I heerd at a big preachin' an' baptizin' at Kyarter's Mills, 'bout ten year' ago.
"It's my opeenion," said Leeby, returning excitedly from the corner, "'at the lad Wilkie's no to be preachin' the morn, after a'. When I gangs to the corner, at ony rate, what think ye's the first thing I see but the minister an' Sam'l Duthie meetin' face to face? Ay, weel, it's gospel am tellin' ye when I say as Sam'l flung back his head an' walkit richt by the minister!"
Aa've often thowt so, i' my aan preachin. Heaven an hell are verra well for t' foak as are ower good, or ower bad; bit t' moast o' foak are juist a mish-mash." He shook his head slowly, and then ventured a glance at Miss Fountain to see whether he had appeased her. Laura seemed to rouse herself with an effort from some thoughts of her own. "Daffady how the sun's shining! I'll go out.
"I tell yer, Marse John," he resumed, after a thoughtful pause, "dey's one word o' ole marster's I don'no' huccome it slipped my min', but hit was a long glorified word, an' I often wishes hit'd come back ter me. Ef I could ricollec' dat word, hit'd holp me powerful in my preachin'. "Wonder ef you wouldn't call out a few dic'sh'nary words fur me, please, sir? Maybe you mought strike it."
Barney made a gesture expressive of much contempt at the mention of these two dignitaries. "Parson and Schoolmaster!" he said derisively. "Why, in course they said so; they're paid to do it. That's how they earns their money. But jest you please to remember, that yer not Parson, not yit Schoolmaster, but a boy without a carikter, so shut up with yer preachin'." Without a character!
Sinner y' are, and so are we all, God save us! say I; and weavin' the stripes for our backs He may be, and little I'd think of Him failin' in that: but Pagan faith, it's black should be the white of the eyes of that preachin' sneak, and a rattle of teeth in his throat divils go round me!" The half-breed, still musing, replied: "An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth is that it, Shon?"
"Is you gwine ter chu'ch ter-night?" inquired his wife. "I reckon I 'll stay home an' go ter bed," he replied. "I ain't be'n feelin' well dis evenin', an' I 'spec' I better git a good night's res'." "Well, you kin stay ef you mineter. Good preachin' 'u'd make you feel better, but ef you ain't gwine, don' fergit ter tote in some wood an' lighterd 'fo' you go ter bed.
Uncle Dave sat down. The Bishop was confused a moment, but quickly said: "Now bretherin, there's another good p'int about preachin' a man's fun'ral whilst he's alive. It gives the corpse a chance to correct any errors. Why, who'd ever have thought that good old Uncle Dave Dickey was that triflin' when he was young? Much obliged, Dave, much obliged, I'll try to tell the exact facts hereafter."
They haven't left a thing of theirs about, everything's packed up and ready to be sent for. When people do that, you may be sure nothing's happened to them. They've gone off, and I bet it's to get rid of that young woman's preachin'. But I don't blame them; I don't wonder they couldn't stand it." The bishop made no reply. Remembering his recent conversation with Mrs.
For fifty years since there was nae lad like Walter Skirving cam into Dumfries High Street frae Stewartry or frae Shire. Walter Skirving could button his knee-breeks withoot bendin' his back that nane could do but the king's son himsel'; an' sic a dancer as he was afore guid an' godly Maister Cauldsowans took hand o' him at the tent, wi' preachin' a sermon on booin' the knee to Baal.
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