"I soon found that the parts of my preachments that were maist liked were generally the very bits thus struck off _extempore_; so in time I took heart of grace, and only wrote down the _heads_. Before autumn I even gave this up, and began to preach even on and boldly, without scrap or note of any kind or description whatever. "That there are many eloquent men who cannot trust their memories, and have all their lives to preach written sermons, is most true; but where a man of talent _can_ preach _extempore_, rely upon it, he will be more eloquent and impressive than if he had undergone the drudgery of inditing the discourse before hand. "And so it was with me, even me Saunders Skelp; for, from the very first, when per force I had to write down my sermons, still even then I found my genius cribbed and confined, and held down in its soarings and highest aspirations by the written _thread_ of my discourse, like a string round the leg of a tame pyot; or if, in a moment of inspiration, I did break away, it was at the peril of getting into another vein of thocht a'thegither, which I aften found cruel kittle to dovetail cleverly into the plain jog-trot of what lay beneath my nose on the pulpit cushion; so, finding I made but a botched business of it so long as I halted between the two opinions, I resolutely determined to write nae mair for ever. "But in the pride of my heart at my early success, I will not conceal that I grew about this time rather overly energetic, and my feelings whiles outran my discretion; but I had a good friend and excellent Mentor in auld Earl M----, the principal heritor in the parish. "Seeing his lordship in his pew--for he didna come to the kirk every Sabbath--one fine clear day, when I was to preach, I thought I would astonish him a wee bit; but, as it turned out, I was mysell the maist astonished of the twa. It was a beautiful summer's day. I had scarcely ever seen the outline of the mountain that overhung the village so hard and clear and sharply defined, as it hove up and out, high into the cold pure blue of the cloudless sky. The misty cap that usually concealed the bald peak, had blown off before the fresh breeze that rustled cheerily among the twittering leaves; disclosing the grey scalp, the haunt of the gled and the eagle, with the glittering streaks of unmelted but not unsunned snow filling the wrinkle-like storm rifts, whose ice-fed streamlets loomed in the distance, still and fixed like frozen gouts of pure sea foam, but lower down sparkled in the sun, flowing with a perceptible motion, as if the hoary giant had been shedding glad tears of dropping diamonds.