"_The Blairs they are a wicked race, They set theirsels in sad disgrace, They made the pipes and drums to play, Through Algonquin on the Sawbbath day._" He had paraphrased a bit to suit the occasion, and the doctor laughed so appreciatively that the elder began to feel brighter. But Jock should have known better than to have set an example of rhyming before Archie Blair. He turned and looked down at the elder, and the sight of him marching peaceably beside Captain Jimmie reminded him of an old doggerel ballad: "But man, there's worse than that written in your own history," he cried: "_O-o-och, Fairshon swore a feud, Against ta clan McTavish, And marched into their land, To murder and to ravish, For he did resolve, To extirpate ta vipers, With four-and-twenty men And five-and-twenty pipers!_" "Tut, tut, Doctor," cried Captain Jimmie, trying to hide a smile beneath his bonnet. "Be quate man, it's the Sabbath day." "Well, here's a verse that's got a quotation from Scripture or at least an allusion to one. That's to be expected in the history of the McPhersons." "_Fairshon had a son That married Noah's daughter, And nearly spoiled ta flood By drinking all ta water, Which he would have done I really do believe it Had ta mixture peen Only half Glenlevit!_" Lawyer Ed was shaking with unseemly laughter. "Ye'll hae to sing it a' when we eat the haggis the morn's night," he suggested. "I don't understand how a reference to anything so unholy as the Glenlevit got into the annals of ta Fairshons, Jock," said Doctor Blair. Now Jock McPherson was not averse to a drop of Glenlevit himself,--for his stomach's sake, of course, for the elder could not be unscriptural even in his eating and drinking. Archie Blair was not averse to it either, though he frankly admitted that it was very bad for his stomach, indeed, and for everybody else's stomach. But in the opening temperance campaign the latter had come out avowedly on the side of local option, and was looked upon as one of the party's strongest speakers, while Jock had not yet declared himself. It was a delicate subject with Mr. McPherson, and he could not endure to be twitted about it. He paused at the church steps and laid his hand on the doctor's velvet sleeve. He cleared his throat, always a dangerous sign.