‘Will you just tell me,’ said Cameron, half defiantly, ‘what good going to church can do me? I know the psalms almost by heart, and I know the chapters the minister reads almost as well. As for the prayers, half of them aren’t prayers at all, and the other half I could say as weel at hame, if I had a mind. And the sermons!—man, Alec, ye canna say ye think they can do good to any living creature.’
‘Some of them, perhaps.’
‘When I find a minister that doesna tell us the same thing over, and over, and over again, and use fifty words to say what might be said in five, to spin out the time, I’ll reconsider the p’int,’ said Cameron.
‘But you believe there’s a God,’ said Alec.
‘That’s a lang stap furret,’ said the other.
‘But do you?’
‘Well, I do, and I dinna. I don’t believe in the Free Kirk God. It’s hard to think this warl could mak’ itsel’: but I hae my doots.’
‘Then you’re an Agnostic?’
‘What if I am? Are ye scunnered?’[1]
‘No—and yet——’