Soon after the ball before commemorated, Miss Sukey had earnestly insisted on returning to Etterick. Old grandmamma made one of the party: and, when the laird returned, he renewed his complaints to his cronies, that she still was everlasting, and that the treat to be given on her burial must be postponed, as the dowager was above ground. His lady by this time had made great progress in bringing her mamma to a state of grace. Miss being now returned from her wanderings after another shepherd to the folds of Methodism, and affection for its pastor also warmly promoted the spiritual amendment of her grandmother. Betty lent her assistance, and nothing was wanted to confirm the dowager in the right way, but the ministry of Roger. This powerful engine of conversion was not wanting long. O’Rourke, having received faithful information from his votary Betty of the state of affairs in the Etterick family, was at the mansion-house the day after their return. He found himself received with great cordiality by his female devotees, and by Miss with many kind glances. He observed that the laird regarded him very coldly, and that this displeasure was increased by the lady, who strongly exhorted her husband to refrain from profane company at the public-house, and to attend to the admonitions of Mr. O’Rourke; and the laird feared lest the influence of the preacher might abridge if not prevent his evening potations. O’Rourke was naturally a sagacious fellow, with a great deal of versatility and address. He could become all things to all men. He took an opportunity of accosting the laird one afternoon in the fields, and bestowed many encomiums on his skill in farming. The laird, who, as O’Rourke was a favourite with the higher powers, did not chuse to behave uncivilly at first, listened to him with indifference, but, as O’Rourke hit his favourite subjects, at last, with complacency. He had descanted on the excellence of a field of wheat then ready for the sickle, and they had walked along a path by its side, when they arrived at a stile within view of which was the ale-house, the scene of the laird’s evening amusements. Etterick, supposing that they must now part, paid his companion a compliment, saying, “Really, Mr. O’Rourke, you have more sense than I thought you had, and I think you and I may be better friends than we have been, but don’t you now tell at home that you saw me going towards Wood’s.” “So far from that, please your honour,” said O’Rourke, “that if you will allow me I will attend you, but it is for the honour of your company, and not for the liquor. Although I must say I see no harm in a cheerful glass with a friend.” “I thought, Mr. Roger, you would think it contrary to religion.” “Oh, not all. Our religion minds higher things, faith and grace; but is not so ticklish as to mind a little drop of whisky.” “Whisky is good,” replied the laird, “but rum is better;” “and so thinks myself,