"She was aye a richt-thinkin' woman, Rachel, there's nae mistake o'
that; a' wonder hoo her son is gettin' on wi' that fairm he's
takin'; a' doot it's rack-rented."

It was an honest, satisfying conversation, and reminded one of the
parish of Drumtochty, being both _quoad sacra_ and _quoad
civilia_.

When the Highlanders came in, Burnbrae was deposed after one
encounter, and the minister was reduced to a state of timid
suggestion. There were days when they would not speak one word, and
were understood to be lost in meditation; on others they broke in on
any conversation that was going from levels beyond the imagination
of Drumtochty. Had this happened in the Auld Manse, Drumsheugh would
have taken for granted that Donald was "feeling sober" (ill), and
recommended the bottle which cured him of "a hoast" (cough) in the
fifties. But the Free Kirk had been taught that the Highlanders were
unapproachable in spiritual attainments, and even Burnbrae took his
discipline meekly.

"It wes a mercy the mune changed last week, Maister Menzies, or a'm
thinkin' it hed been a weet sacrament."

Donald came out of a maze, where he had been wandering in great
peace.

"I wass not hearing that the moon had anything to do in the matter.
Oh no, but he wass bound hand and foot by a mighty man."

"Wha was bund? A'm no juist followin' ye, Maister Menzies."