'"Him hipple-clite nowee," continued Chilpo, shoutin' aloud to all the chapel-folks who hadn't recovered theirsels from their amazement; "dam hipple-clite! Why, him worship the debbil like Chilpo former timee. Him no use for prayee; him dam-ee, curs-ee; him Church's pilate, women's pilate, then burnee together. Oh yes, him lemember allight; askee him," an' wi' that he points his finger at Isaac, whose face was workin' in a frightful fashion, his eyes starin' this way an' that, wi' no meanin' i' them, his lips black, an' his mouth slobberin'; then sudden he starts to run, but catches his foot an' falls full length doon on the floor an' drums wi' his hands amangst the cushions. 'There was a panic at that; half o' the women faints dead awa, the bairns scream, and some o' the men drives Chilpo, still chucklin' to himself, oot at the door wi' blows, whilst others attend to Isaac lyin' wi' his head covered i' the dusty cushions an' his hands hard a-grip o' the seat-stanchions. 'They loosens his grasp wi' difficulty, but lifts him up at the finish wi' a shockin' face on him, an' a senseless tongue that babbled aboot a parrot. Some said it mun ha' been i' reference someway to some wicked episode i' his past life which Chilpo kenned o' an' alluded to i' the chapel. Maybe a parrot had been left the sole survivor after a sack, ye ken, an' Isaac couldna forget the scene. Anyways, Chilpo, the dam cunnin' little de'il, kenned o' the hidden sore i' Isaac's mind, an' laid a cruel finger on 't wi' the blackest malice. An' there was nae doot aboot the outcome o't, for Isaac was gone clean daft, an' died not long afterwards i' the asylum. 'Weel, they gied him a big buryin', for his brethren i' the chapel said they believed he was a true repentant sinner, an' forbye that he had left a good bit siller amangst them, which would dootless assist them to that conclusion; an' as there had been some body-snatchin' lately, they determined to form a small watch committee to keep guard at the graveside for a night or two. 'Weel, the watch was composed o' some decent elderly folk, who didn't trash theirselves ower the job; an' mevvies the funeral festivities had delayed them a bit, for they didn't arrive at the graveyard till aboot half-past ten o' the clock. 'It was ane o' thae tempestuous October nights, wi' half a gale blowin', an' clouds gallopin', wi' flittin's o' moonlight like jockeys ridin' 'em; an' when they came nigh to the graveside, an' saw a dark, misshapen sort o' a figure plyin' an axe vigorously, an' heard a thud, thud, same as ye may when passin' by a butcher's shop any day, why, they turned tail and fled, the most o' them stumblin' this way an' that amangst the headstones.