"I was juist comin' oot at the kirk door," says I, "when the minister cam' skelp up again' me." I didna mention 'at I was rinnin'. "The cratur drappit i' the flure," says I, "like's he'd been shot; an' then to crack aboot me bein' daft! Did ye ever hear the like?"
The kirk offisher gaed awa' hame, clawin' his heid, an' sayin' till himsel', "Weel, it raley snecks a' thing. There's some ane o' the three o's no' very soond i' the tap, shurely; an' whuther it's me or no', I raley canna mak' oot."
But what I want to lat you see is that I do thae daft-like things sometimes, I dinna very weel ken hoo. I canna tell ye what wey it comes aboot. Is ony o' ye lads ever affekit like that? Man, I've seen me gaen to the kirk wi' Bawbie sometimes, dressed in my sirtoo an' my lum, an' my gloves an' pocket-hankie, an' a'thing juist as snod's a noo thripenny bit, an', a' o' a sudden, I wud hae to pet my tongue atween my teeth, an' grip my umberell like's I was wantin' to chock it, juist to keep mysel' frae tumblin' a fleepy or a catma i' the middle o' the road amon' a' the kirk fowk, him hat, sirtoo, an' a'thegither. What can ye mak' o' the like o that? It's my opinion sometimes that I was never meent to behave mysel'; an' yet I'm sensible o' doin' most terriple stewpid things of'en. It's a mystery to me, an' a dreefu' dwang to Bawbie. But what can ye do? You canna get medisin for that kind o' disease! As Bawbie says, I'll never behave till I'm killed; an' the fac' o' the maitter is, I'm no' very shure aboot mysel' even efter that. I ken it's an awfu' job for Bawbie tholin' my ongaens; but, at the same time, if it wasna me, the neeper wives an her wudna hae onything to mak' a molligrant aboot ava. As the Bible says, we're fearfu' an' winderfu' made, an', I suppose, we maun juist mak' the best o't.
THE END.