"He's weel eneuch liked o' them as is weel liking," said Sam, setting his forks in their places. "The angels like him, I've nae doubt; and the lost sheep like him: but he does nae gang doun sae weel wi' the ninety and nine. They'd hae him a bit harder on the sinners, and a bit safter wi' the saints--specially wi' theirsels, wha are the vara crown and flower o' a' the saints, and ne'er were sinners--no to speak o', ye ken, and outside the responses. And he disna gang saft and slippy doun their throats, as they'd ha'e him, but he is just main hard on 'em. He tells 'em gin they're saints they suld live like saints, and they'd like the repute o' being saints without the fash o' living. He did himsel a main deal o' harm wi' sic-like by a discourse some time gane--ye'll judge what like it was when I tell ye the Scripture it was on: `He that saith he abideth in Him ought himself also so to walk even as He walked.' And there's a gey lot of folks i' this warld 'd like vara weel to abide, but they're a hantle too lazy to walk. And the minister, he comes and stirs 'em up wi' the staff o' the Word, and bids 'em get up and gang their ways, and no keep sat down o' the promises, divertin' theirsels wi' watching ither folk trip. He's vara legal, Miss Cary, is the minister; he reckons folk suld be washed all o'er, and no just dip their tongues in the fountain, and keep their hearts out. He disna make much count o' giving the Lord your tongue, and ay hauding the De'il by the hand ahint your back. And the o'er gude folks disna like that. They'd liever keep friendly wi' baith." "Then you think the promises were not made to be sat on, Sam?" said I, feeling much diverted with Sam's quaint way of putting things. Sam settled the cream-jug and sugar-bowl before he answered. "I'll tell ye how it is, Miss. The promises was made to be lain on by weary, heavy-laden sinners that come for rest, and want to lay down both theirsels and their burden o' sins on the Lord's heart o' love: but they were ne'er made for auld Jeshurun to sit on and wax fat, and kick the puir burdened creatures as they come toiling up the hill. Last time I was in Carlisle, I went to see a kinsman o' mine there as has set up i' the cabinet-making trade, and he showed me a balk o' yon bonnie new wood as they ha'e getten o'er o' late--the auld Vicar used to ha'e his dining-table on't; it comes frae some outlandish pairts, and they call it a queer name; I canna just mind it the noo--I reckon I'm getting too auld to tak' in new notions." "Mahogany?" "Ay, maybe that's it: I ken it minded me o' mud and muggins. Atweel, my cousin tauld me they'd a rare call for siccan wood, and being vara costly, they'd hit o' late in the trade on a new way o' making furniture, as did nae come to sae mickle--they ca' it veneer." "Oh yes, I know," said I.