“'Ye'ill no dae weel withoot a wife here, Milton,' says I; 'hoosekeepers are dear, an' ye 'ill never get the wark o' yir wife oot of ane; it wes maybe a peety ye lat her trachle (fatigue) hersel when she wesna strong, but gin a man be busy wi' speeritual affairs he disna notice,' an' a' askit him if he wes thinkin' o' a third.” “Did ye dae that, Jamie?” said Hillocks, “an' her no gane a month. Milton 'ill think us a gey hard-hearted set in Drumtochty,” and the fathers looked as if Jamie had gone too far. “He 's no hed ony time tae think o 't yet,” continued Jamie, quietly, “an' is tae leave himsel in the hands o' Providence. 'I 'll be guidit, nae doot, an' a' maun juist wait.' His langidge wes beautiful tae hear. 'Half the rent o' Milton 'ill need tae come oot the dairy, but we maun mairry in the Lord.' He wes sair affeckit a' left, and speakin' aboot 'Mama.' A' gie him sax months masel.” “Yir tongue got the better o' ye that day, a' doot, Jamie,” and Hillocks, who had married twice with fair pecuniary success, was distinctly nettled. “What 's a man tae dae with-oot a wife tae haud things in aboot an' see tae the hens? Forbye, bein' company,” throwing in a sentimental consideration. “Gin a man wants a woman tae gither eggs an' sew buttons on his sark (shirt), he micht mairry twal times rinnin', an' naebody need say a word. But what richt hes sic a man tae speak o' wife or... luve? He's juist a po-leegamist.” “Lord's sake,” ejaculated Hillocks, and the kirkyaird felt that this was very wild talk indeed, and even personal. “Naethin' else,” and Jamie's voice vibrated with a new note. “Gin a man gaes afore his family tae America tae mak a hame for them, an' leaves his wife here for a whilie, is he no mairrit? Wud he mairry another wife oot there tae keep his hoose, an' say he hed juist ae wife because the sea wes rollin' atween the twa women?” “He daurna,” replied Whinnie, who never saw six inches ahead; “the polis----” But Drumsheugh waved him to silence. “Weel, gin the woman leaves the man an' passes intae the ither warld, is she deid, think ye, neeburs, an' is she no' his wife? An' mair nor that, are the twa no' nearer than ever, an'... dearer? “Ye 'ill be sayin' in yir hearts, it 's no for Jamie Soutar tae be speakin' like this, him at 's been alane a' his days; but a've ma ain thochts, an' the deepest thing, ay, and the bonniest, in the warld is a man an' a wumman ane in luve for ever.” Jamie turned round and went into the kirk hurriedly, but Drumsheugh lingered behind for a minute with Dr. Maclure, who was making his quarterly attendance. “What think ye o' that, Weelum? It bore a wee hard on Hillocks, but it wes michty speakin' an' gared (made) the blood rin. Jamie's a hard wratch ootside, but he's gude stuff inside.”