feow lees as I can; I never sweir, nor tak the name o' the Lord in
vain, anger me 'at likes; I sell naething but the best whusky; I
never hae but broth to my denner upo' the Lord's day, an' broth
canna brak the Sawbath, simmerin' awa' upo' the bar o' the grate,
an' haudin' no lass frae the kirk; I confess, gien ye wull be
speirin', 'at I dinna read my buik sae aften as maybe I sud; but,
'deed, sir, tho' I says't 'at sud haud my tongue, ye hae waur folk
i' yer perris nor Benjie Croale's widow; an' gien ye wunna hae a
drap to weet yer ain whustle for the holy wark ye hae afore ye the
morn's mornin', I maun gang an' mak my bed, for the lass is laid up
wi' a bealt thoom, an' I maunna lat a' thing gang to dirt an' green
bree; though I'm sure it's rale kin' o' ye to come to luik efter me,
an' that's mair nor Maister Rennie, honest gentleman, ever did me
the fawvour o', a' the time he ministered the perris. I haena an
ill name wi' them 'at kens me, sir; that I can say wi' a clean
conscience; an' ye may ken me weel gien ye wull. An' there's jist
ae thing mair, sir: I gie ye my Bible-word, 'at never, gien I saw
sign o' repentance or turnin' upo' ane o' them 'at pits their legs
'aneth my table -- Wad ye luik intil the parlour, sir? No! -- as I was
sayin', never did I, sin' I keepit hoose, an' never wad I set mysel'
to quench the smokin' flax; I wad hae no man's deith, sowl or body,
lie at my door."

"Well, well, Mistress Croale," said the minister, somewhat dazed by
the cataract he had brought upon his brain, and rather perplexed
what to say in reply with any hope of reaching her, "I don't doubt a
word of what you tell me; but you know works cannot save us; our
best righteousness is but as filthy rags."

"It's weel I ken that, Mr. Sclater. An' I'm sure I'll be glaid to