GRAVE-DIGGER OF SORN.
The Grave-Digger of Sorn, Ayrshire, was as selfish and as mean a sinner as ever handled mattock, or carried mortcloth. He was a very quarrelous and discontented old man, with a voice like the whistle of the wind thro’ a key hole. On a bleak Sunday afternoon in the country, an acquaintance from a neighbouring parish accosted him one day, and asked how the world was moving with him, “Oh, very puirly, sir, very puirly indeed,” was the answer, “the yard has done naething ava for us this Summer, if ye like to believe me, I havna buriet a leevin’ soul this sax weeks.”