"Good e'en to your reverence, for I presume I have the honour of addressing a clergyman," said Walter, politely. "Hum--humph!" answered Ichabod, with a short cough, nodding his head, and never once moving his eyes from Walter's face. Every man was then doubtful and suspicious of strangers (the Scots are so to the present hour), and consequently Ichabod was singularly dry and reserved. But Elsie drew near Walter, and looked at him attentively. The grief that preyed upon his heart had imparted a singularly prepossessing mildness to his features, and a winning cadence to the tone of his voice, but the stark preacher neither saw one nor felt the influence of the other. "A cold night, your reverence." "Yea," gasped Ichabod, and there was another pause. "My service to you, Sir. Wilt taste my wine? 'tis right Gascony, and I should be a judge." "Yea, having been in those parts where it was produced, probably," observed Ichabod, becoming more curious and communicative as he imbibed the lion's share of Walter's wine pot, and waited for an answer, but there was none given. "Verily, Sir," began Mr. Bummel, "these are times to chill the souls and bodies of the afflicted. Thou seest how sore the famine waxeth in the land, especially in these our once fertile Lothians, which whilome were wont to be overflowing with milk and honey." "Ay," chimed in Elsie, "but I've seen them in mair fearfu' times, when they were overflowing wi' blude and soldiers." "'Tis for that red harvest, woman, that we are visited by this lamentable scourge; plagued even as Egypt was of old. In these three fertile shires of Lothian I have seen a woeful change since the last harvest, and my heart grows heavy when I think upon it; but I am about to arise and go forth from them for ever." "Indeed, Sir," said Walter. "I have gotten a pleasant call from the Lord to another kirk----" "Wi' a _better_ stipend, Sir," added the gleeful Elsie. "Indubitably," said Mr. Bummel. "Twa hunder pound Scots, a braw glebe, four bolls o' beir," replied Elsie, counting on her crooked and wrinkled fingers, "aucht chalders--" "Peace, woman Elsie, for this enumeration of thine savours of a love for the things of this life." "And a braw pulpit. O, but it's grand you'll be, Ichabod, when in full birr under your sounding board. But alake, Sir," she added, turning to Walter, "arena' these fearfu' times?' "Sad indeed, gudewife." "I was in the mealmarket this morning, and oh, Sirs, it was a sight to rend the heart of a nether millstane to see the hungry bairns and wailing mothers worrying about the half-filled pokes. God help them! the puir folk are deeing fast the west country we hear." "'Tis a scourge on the land for its former sins," said the preacher in his most sepulchral tone; "but let us hope that the faith of its people will save it!" "You'll hae come from some far awa' country I'm thinking, Sir?" said Elsie, inquisitively, for the extreme sadness of Walter interested her extremely.