“Are you certain it was not Mr Renwick?”
“I am certain.”
“Is your master a very religious man?”
“He’s weel eneugh that way—No that very reithe on’t; but the gudewife hauds his neb right sair to the grindstane about it.”
“Does he perform family worship?”
“Sometimes.”
“Is he reckoned a great and exemplary performer of that duty?”
“Na, he’s nae great gun, I trow; but he warstles away at it as weel as he can.”
“Can you repeat any part, or any particular passage of his usual prayer?”
“I’m sure I might, for he gangs often aneuch oure some o’ them. Let me see—there’s the still waters, and the green pastures, and the blood of bulls and of goats; and then there’s the gos–hawk, and the slogy riddle, and the tyrant an’ his lang neb; I hae the maist o’t i’ my head, but then I canna mouband it.”