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Mr Cowie held out his hand to her, and said, "Well, my little maiden, what do you want?" "Please, sir, wad ye len' me a sang-buik?" "A psalm-book?" said the minister, hesitatingly, supposing he had not heard aright, and yet doubting if this could be the correction of his auricular blunder. "Na, sir; I hae a psalm-buik at hame. It's a sang-buik that I want the len' o'."
"Up to date!" retorted Archie scornfully; "it's a sair date an' a deein' ane. It'll dee the nicht, an' there'll be a new ane the morn, an' wha ever heard tell o' an Easter Sabbath in the Kirk o' Scotland? It'll dae weel eneuch for thae dissentin' bodies, wi' their prayer-books, but what hae we, wi' the psalm-buik, an' a regular ministry, an' a regular kirk, to dae wi' siclike follies?
My heart caught its distilling fragrance, like a bluebell on some mountainside, and I knew that the seasons were exchanging in Donald's soul, winter retreating before the avenging spring. Suddenly he arose and swiftly spoke "I'll gang back on Sabbath mornin'; I'll tak' ma mither's psalm-buik, and I'll gang."
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