'Are you not condemning a man before you have even heard the accusation brought against him?' inquired the Laird; but without gaining much attention from any one. The audience, in fact, was just then uttering a sigh of satisfaction over the moving words of the previous speaker, which were as impressive as a doleful sing-song could make them, besides being in accordance with their own opinion; and nothing is more interesting and weighty than our own sentiments uttered by another, with a fluency and copiousness which we could not have lent them. It is like looking at ourselves through a glorifying medium, contemplating our own portrait from the brush of a distinguished court painter; which, judged by the walls of Royal Academy Exhibitions, is the highest, as well as the best paid form of art. The golden bowls and pomegranates of the morning were nothing to this! it was as good as a sermon, and 'so practical,' as some one whispered. Nothing like a practical sermon! my friend; and much tilting at sin. Always premising that the sin is not yours nor mine (which would be personal and rude), it makes one feel virtuous by proxy. Mr. Geddie looked over for a suggestion how to proceed, to brother Dowlas, who was quietly enjoying the scene. He knew what it was to be flown away with by Pegasus, and then dropped helpless in a swamp. It had happened to himself; but he was older now, and it was not disagreeable to see his young friend meet the reward of his overforwardness in this miscarriage. Mr. Dowlas suggested that the present was properly to be considered a meeting of members and office-bearers of the congregation, to investigate certain rumours affecting the character of their acting minister, and to decide what action, either by way of petition to the Presbytery or otherwise, as might seem most expedient was to be taken thereanent. 'Ay! Thereanent, Elluck! Hear ye that?' whispered a neighbour to Alec Lamont, 'That's juist what they say e'y Presbytery. I ken, for I hae heard them mysel'! A graund head for business he's gotten, that Mester Dowlas. We's gang the richt gate to wark noo, I'm thinkin'. An' hear till him noo, Elluck!' he continued. 'Hear til him noo!' while poor Alec was straining his ears to listen, and was only prevented by the chatter of his talkative neighbour.