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Updated: June 5, 2025
Instantly, therefore, she changed her tone to one of expostulation. "It's a sair peety, doobtless," she said, "'at there sud be sae mony drouthie thrapples i' the kingdom, sir; but drouth maun drink, an' ye ken, sir, gien it war hauden frae them, they wad but see deils an' cut their throts."
"They're like to see deils ony gait er' lang," retorted the minister, relapsing into the vernacular for a moment. "Ow, deed maybe, sir! but e'en the deils themsels war justifeed i' their objection to bein' committed to their ain company afore their time." Mr. Sclater could not help smiling at the woman's readiness, and that was a point gained by her.
Every Sunday morning he was in Crossmichael, where he had gathered together, one by one, a sect of about a dozen persons, who called themselves "God's Remnant of the True Faithful," or, for short, "God's Remnant." To the profane, they were known as "Gib's Deils." It was known that every Sunday they prayed for a blessing on the arms of Bonaparte.
I canna help mysel'. Dinna sen' me to the ill place. Ye loot the deils gang intil the swine, lat me tee." With this frightful petition, his utterance began to grow indistinct. Then he fell forward upon the bed, groaning, and his voice died gradually away.
'Lord forgie ye, Ensign Maccombich, said the alarmed Presbyterian; 'I'm sure the colonel wad never do the like o' that! 'Hout! hout! Mrs. Flockhart, replied the ensign, 'we're young blude, ye ken; and young saints, auld deils. 'But will ye fight wi' Sir John Cope the morn, Ensign Maccombich? demanded Mrs. Flockhart of her guest. 'Troth I'se ensure him, an' he'll bide us, Mrs.
An' then Lucky went on: 'There are many wolves in sheep's claithing, among us, my man; mony deils aneath the masks o' zealous professors, roaming about in kirks and meetinghouses o' the land. It was but the year afore the last that the people o' the town o' Auchtermuchty grew so rigidly righteous that the meanest hind among them became a shining light in ither towns an' parishes.
An' gin ye drive them to Jock Thamson's, or Jeemie Deuk's, it'll be just like savin' the word, I dinna inten' 't for sweirin', guid kens! I say it'll just be dammin' them afore their time, like the puir deils. Hech! but it'll come sune eneuch, an' they're muckle to be peetied!"
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