ghbours.

"It's a sod pity, George," he was saying as he entered, "that a man
like you wadna, ance for a', tak thoucht a bit, and consider the en' o'
a' thing that the sun shines upo'."

"Hoo do ye ken, Thamas, that I dinna tak thoucht?"

"Will ye say 'at ye _div_ tak thoucht, George?"

"I'm a bit o' a Protestant, though I'm nae missionar; an' I'm no
inclined to confess, Thamas--meanin' no ill-will to _you_ for a' that,
ye ken," added George, in a conciliatory tone.

"Weel, weel. I can only say that I hae seen no signs o' a savin'
seriousness aboot ye, George. Ye're sair ta'en up wi' the warl'."

"Hoo mak' ye that oot? Ye big hooses, an' I mak' doors to them. And
they'll baith stan' efter you an' me's laid i' the mouls.--It's weel
kent forbye that ye hae a bit siller i' the bank, and I hae none."

"Not a bawbee hae I, George. I can pray for my daily breid wi' an
honest hert; for gin the Lord dinna sen' 't, I hae nae bank to fa' back
upo'."

"I'm sorry to hear 't, Thamas," said George.--"But Guid guide 's!" he
exclaimed, "there's the twa laddies, hearkenin' to ilka word 'at we
say!"

He hoped thus, but hoped in vain, to turn the current of the
conversation.

"A' the better for that!" persisted Thomas. "They need to be remin't as
well as you and me, that the fashion o' this warld passeth away. Alec,
man, Willie, my lad, can ye big a boat to tak' ye ower the river o'
Deith?--Na, ye'll no can do that. Ye maun gae through that watshod, I
doobt! But there's an ark o' the Covenant that'll carry ye safe ower
that and a waur flood to boot--and that's the flood o' God's wrath
against evil-doers.--'Upon the wicked he shall rain fire and
brimstone--a furious tempest.'--We had a gran' sermon upo' the ark o'
the Covenant frae young Mr Mirky last Sabbath nicht. What for will na
ye come and hear the Gospel for ance and awa' at least, George Macwha?
Ye can sit i' my seat."

"I'm obleeged to ye," answered George; "but the muckle kirk does weel
eneuch for me. And ye ken I'm precentor, noo, forbye."

"The muckle kirk!" repeated Thomas, in a tone of contempt. "What get ye
there but the dry banes o' morality, upo' which the win' o' the word
has never blawn to pit life into the puir disjaskit skeleton. Come ye
to oor kirk, an' ye'll get a rousin', I can tell ye, man. Eh! man, gin
ye war ance convertit, ye wad ken hoo to sing. It's no great singin'
'at _ye_ guide."

Before the conversation had reached this point another listen