'Ay! weel I wat,' said Joseph, swaying his head solemnly to and fro, 'she's a holy auld wife that same Luckie Corbet! an' I'm sure, minister, it'll be a preev'ledge to ye to resaive her testimony! She's rael zealous against Erastianism an' a' the sins in high places. I'm thinkin', sir, she's gye an' like thae covenanters lang syne, 'at Mester Dowlas was tellin' 's about whan he lectur'd up by on the Hurlstane Muir, about Jenny Geddes down Edinbro' way, an' mair sic like.' 'Ay! an' I'm thinkin' it's that auld carline, Jenny Geddes, 'at's raised a' the fash! My granny gaed to hear Mester Dowlas whan he preached among the whins down by the shore, an' oh, but he was bonny! An' a graand screed o' doctrine he gae us. For twa hale hours he preached an' expundet an' never drew breath, for a the wind was skirlin', an' the renn whiles skelpin' like wild. An' I'm thinkin' my granny's gotten her death o't a'. But oh! an' he was graand on Jenny Geddes! an' hoo she was a mither in Israel, an' hoo she up wi' the creepie an' heaved it at the Erastian's heid. An' my granny was juist fairly ta'en wi't a', an' she vooed she beut to be a mither in Israel tae, an' whan she gaed hame she out wi' the auld hugger 'at she keeps the bawbees in, aneath the hearth-stane, for to buy a creepie o' her ain,--she thocht a new ane wad be best for the Lord's wark,--an' she coupet the chair whaur hung her grave claes, 'at she airs fornent the fire ilka Saturday at e'en, an' out there cam a lowe, an' scorched a hole i' the windin' sheet, an' noo puir body we'll hae to hap her in her muckle tartan plaid. An' aiblins she'll be a' the warmer'e'y moulds for that. But, however, she says the sheet was weel waur'd, for the guid cause. An' syne she took til her bed, wi' a sair host, an' sma' winder, for there was a weet dub whaur she had been sittin' amang the whins. An' noo the host's settled on her that sair, she whiles canna draw her breath. Sae she says she maun let the creepie birlin' slide, but she beut to testifee afore some godly minister or she gangs hence. An' I'm fear'd, sir, ye maun hurry, for she's rael far through.' Joseph listened with a groan of solemn approval. 'Oh, minister, but it's a high preev'lidge! an' I'm no grudgin' the weet an' the gutters comin' ower to fesh ye, forby the drap parrich growin' cauld at hame!' 'Roderick! It is impossible for you to go. Ten miles! and such a night! And then, think of kind Mr. Watson; how hurt he will be!' Joseph sighed, and muttered under his breath about sojourners in Meshech, but Mr. Brown took no notice, and replied to his sister,-- 'The coach will pass going down at seven to-morrow morning.' 'I'm fear'd, sir, ye'll be ower late by than. She'll maybe no live or mornin.' An' she canna thole waitin', my granny.' 'But we have no gig, you must remember, and I know the inn gig is away, so it cannot be helped,' replied Mary.