"Well, that you may shortly have an opportunity of judging," said my Uncle Drummond; "for this gentleman has come to Selkirk, and has asked leave of the presbytery to preach in certain kirks of this neighbourhood. There was some demur at first to the admission of a Prelatist; but after some converse with him this was withdrawn, and he will preach next Sabbath morning at Selkirk, and in the afternoon at Monks' Brae. You can go to Monks' Brae to hear him, if you will; I, of course, shall not be able to accompany you, but I trust to find an opportunity when he preaches in the fields, if there be one. I should like to hear this great English preacher, I confess. What say you?" "They'll go, you may be sure, Sir," said Angus, before we could answer. "Trust a lassie to gad about if she has the chance. Mind you take all the pocket-handkerchiefs you have with you. They say 'tis dreadful the way this man gars you greet. 'Tis true, you English are more given that way than we Scots; but folks say you cannot help yourself,--you must cry, whether you will or no." "I should like to go, I think, Uncle," said I. "Only--I suppose he is a real clergyman?" "There goes a genuine Englishwoman!" said Angus. "If Paul himself were to preach, she would not go to hear him till she knew what bishop had ordained him." "Yes, Cary," answered my Uncle Drummond, smiling; "he is a real clergyman. More `real' than you think me, I fear." "Oh, you are different, Uncle," said I; "but I am sure Father would not like me to hear any preacher who was not--at least--I don't know--he did not seem to think this Mr Whitefield all right, somehow. Perhaps he did not know he was a proper person." "`A proper person!'" sighed Angus, casting up his eyes. "My dear," said my Uncle Drummond, kindly, "you are a good lassie to think of your father's wishes. Never mind Angus; he is only making fun, and is a foolish young fellow yet. Of course, not having spoken with your father, I cannot tell so well as yourself what his wishes are; and 'tis quite possible he may think, for I hear many do, that this gentleman is a schismatic, and may disapprove of him on that account only. If so, I can tell you for certain, 'tis a mistake. But as to anything else, you must judge for yourself, and do what you think right." "You see no objection to our going, Father?" asked Flora, who had not spoken hitherto. "Not at all, my dear," said my Uncle. "Go by all means, if you like it. You may never have another opportunity, and 'tis very natural you should wish it." "Thank you," answered Flora. "Then, if Angus will take me, I will go." "Well, I don't know," said Angus. "I am afraid some of my handkerchiefs are at the wash. I should not like to be quite drowned in my tears. I might wash you away, too; and that would be a national calamity."