tterly unable to describe--we leave them to our reader's
imagination. At length, however, on a morning after the minister of
Mosskirk had shamefully been supported home by two of his
parishioners, in a state of deplorable intoxication, the old shepherd
gathered up resolution to speak to his son. He did not denounce,
insult, or even upbraid him; but, with tears in his eyes, delicately
alluding to his misconduct, assured him that such another occurrence
would cause him to leave the manse for ever; for that, though he might
not be able to prevent, he was resolved never to sanction, the fearful
immorality which drunkenness carries in its train, more hideous still
when attached to a minister of the Gospel.

William, already disgusted with himself, and humbled before his own
heart, was crushed to the earth by his old father's appeal. He threw
himself upon his aged parent's neck, and entreated his forgiveness.
"My forgiveness, my boy!" replied the shepherd; "you cannot offend
me, and therefore it is vain to ask for my forgiveness. My heart is so
utterly bound up in thee, that, though it may deplore, it cannot
denounce any conduct of thine. It is as it were but a servant of
thine, and in good or in evil report, will follow in its train. But,
if my sufferings, and the sneers of men, have no influence over thee,
think, oh, my dear boy! think on death, the judgment, eternity!"

Will it be believed, that, after this appeal, the remorse which he
suffered, and the resolutions of reformation which he made, a single
week saw the minister of Mosskirk reel into his manse, assisted by the
pastor of the Methodist Chapel, at two o'clock in the morning? Such
was the distressing reality; and the next morning, without speaking to
his son, but giving, amid heart-broken sobs and sighs, his blessing to
his daughter-in-law and her children, old David Riddell removed from
his son's roof: nor could all his entreaties induce him to return.

Let me hasten to conclude. The conduct of William became presently so
notoriously shameful, that it could no longer be overlooked by his
parishioners, and he was more than once called upon by some of them
with remonstrances, which increased gradually in severity. Still the
infatuated man proceeded, until at length his behaviour became a
public slander to his own parishioners and to the whole church. He was
yet, however, so much beloved for his generous warmth of heart, and
admired for his talents, that a last ef