'Deed ay, sir. Let him 'at thinks he's stan'in' tak tent he dizna fa', says Scripter. We're but puir craeters! That's me an' my likes, I mean, sir. As for a godly minister an' a powerfu' preacher, wha's praise is in a' the churches, I wadna venture to say the like o' him.' 'I fear we are all alike, Joseph! (is not that your name?) said Mr. Geddie, slowly shaking his head, and blushing with pleasure so far as his drab and yellow complexion would allow. 'I fear we are all alike,' he repeated, still toying with the sweet morsel before he swallowed it. 'Ou ay, sir! Dawvit was a man, an' sae was Sant Paul! A man of like paussions, an' sae aiblins a body micht ventur to say o' yersel'; but it's terrible odds atween the likes o' ye, an' hiz 'at's creepin' on wur bellies, as I may say, just worms o' the dust!' 'Alas! alas! Joseph, there are no exceptions! Just look at the unhappy man who has created so sad a scandal in this very parish!' 'Nae doubt, sir, an' I'm wae to think o't. But after a' he's but young--an' he's no ordeened--an' ye ken, sir, his faither was a moderate! That maks a terrible odds! What says Scripter? "The faithers hae aeten soor grapes," (gye an' like the grosets, I'm thinkin', afore they're just ripe), an the bairns' teeth is set on edge. (I see na sae weel what that means, but I'm thinkin' it's just 'at it gars their rotten teeth dirl). An' again the sins o' the faithers on the children til the third an' fourth generation. Hech, sirse! It's weel for me my granny wasna a moderate! an' as for my faither, I ne'er heard tell o' him.' 'Yes, Joseph! (I believe I am right in calling you Joseph?) But you have a fine lively knowledge of Scripture, and I think--I hope--I may almost say I am sure, from what I have seen, that the root of the matter is in you. Now, my friend, would you not like to come forward openly, to take a plainer, bolder, stronger, nobler stand for the truth? Does not your heart burn within you? when you see this glen and other glens too, my brother, there are so many other glens, given over to sin and worldliness, or it may be to moderatism--as soul-destroying an error as any of them. Does not your heart burn within you? And do you not feel constrained to cry aloud--"Here am I, send me?" To put it to you in plainer, if less moving words, how would you like to be a catechist?'