hawk's.

"He's been out at my place Sunday afternoon," said Sandy, "but I haven't
met him myself. What sort is he?"

"Don't ask me. I sometimes go with the madame to church, but generally I
fall asleep. He's no alarm clock."

"Then you can't tell what sort of a preacher he is," said Sandy with a
twinkle in his eye. "You can't hear much when you are asleep."

"I hear enough to know that he's no good as a preacher. I hear they're
going to fire him."

"I tell you what it is, Stewart," said Sandy, "I don't believe you would
know a good sermon if you heard one."

"What's that you say? I've heard the best preachers in the country that
breeds preachers, in the country where preachers grow like the berries
on the bramble bushes. I know preaching, and I like good preaching,
too."

"Oh, come off, Stewart! You may be a good judge of dogs, but I'm blowed
if I am going to take you as a judge of preachers."

"The same qualities in all of them, dogs, horses, preachers," insisted
Duff.

"How do you make that out?"