“Still there are vahrious wy’s in which a man can be deein the wull o’ his Father in h’aven, and the great thing for ilk ane is to fin’ oot the best w’y _he_ can set aboot deein that wull. “Noo here’s a man sittin aside me that I maun help set to the best eese he’s fit for—and that is, tellin ither fowk what he kens aboot the God that made him and them, and stirrin o’ them up to dee what He would hae them dee. The fac is, that the man was ance a minister o’ the Kirk o’ Scotlan’; but whan he was a yoong man, he fell intil a great faut:—a yoong man’s faut—I’m no gaein to excuse ’t—dinna think it!—Only I chairge ye, be ceevil til him i’ yer vera thouchts, rememberin hoo mony things ye hae dene yersels ’at ye hae to be ashamit o’, though some o’ them may never hae come to the licht; for, be sure o’ this, he has repentit richt sair. Like the prodigal, he grew that ashamit o’ what he had dene, that he gied up his kirk, and gaed hame to the day’s darg upon his father’s ferm. And that’s what he’s at the noo, thof he be a scholar, and that a ripe ane! And by his repentance he’s learnt a heap that he didna ken afore, and that he couldna hae learnt ony ither w’y than by turnin wi’ shame frae the path o’ the transgressor. I hae broucht him wi’ me this day, sirs, to tell ye something—he hasna said to me what—that the Lord in his mercy has tellt him. I’ll say nae mair: Mr. Bletherwick, wull ye please tell’s what the Lord has putten it intil yer min’ to say?” The soutar sat down; and James got up, white and trembling. For a moment or two he was unable to speak, but overcoming his emotion, and falling at once into the old Scots tongue, he said—