sermon from Chancellor Howard Crosby. The session of the Free Kirk came
in a body a little later, and to them my father pledged himself for the
evening sermon. The senior elder of the Established Kirk, a snuff-taking
man and very deliberate, was the last to appear, and to his request for
an afternoon sermon there was nothing left to offer but the services of
the young probationer in theology. I could see that it struck him as a
perilous adventure. Questions about "the fundamentals" glinted in his
watery eye. He crossed and uncrossed his legs with solemnity, and blew
his nose so frequently in a huge red silk handkerchief that it
seemed like a signal of danger. At last he unburdened himself of his
hesitations.

"Ah'm not saying that the young man will not be orthodox--ahem! But ye
know, sir, in the Kirk, we are not using hymns, but just the pure Psawms
of Daffit, in the meetrical fairsion. And ye know, sir, they are ferry
tifficult in the reating, whatefer, for a young man, and one that iss a
stranger. And if his father will just be coming with him in the pulpit,
to see that nothing iss said amiss, that will be ferry comforting to the
congregation."

So the dear governor swallowed his laughter gravely and went surety for
his son. They appeared together in the church, a barnlike edifice, with
great galleries half-way between the floor and the roof. Still higher
up, the pulpit stuck like a swallow's nest against the wall. The two
ministers climbed the precipitous stair and found themselves in a box so
narrow that one must stand perforce, while the other sat upon the only
seat. In this "ride and tie" fashion they went through the service. When
it was time to preach, the young man dropped the doctrines as discreetly
as possible upon the upturned countenances beneath him. I have forgotten
now what it was all about, but there was a quotation from the Song