"What! you ride inside on such a lovely day!" I exclaimed, taking my seat at his side.
"On week-days it is all very well to go outside, but on the Sabbath the interior is more respectable."
The following little anecdote, which was told me in the north of Scotland, proves that the Highlander knows how to reconcile his scruples with his interests, even on the Holy Sabbath day:
My friend, walking one day in the neighbourhood of Braemar, all at once perceived that he had lost his way.
Meeting a peasant, he asked him to put him on the right track.
"Eh!" said the rustic, "you are breaking the Sawbath, and you are served richt. The Lord is punishin' ye...."
This little sermon bid fair to last some time. My friend slipped a shilling into the peasant's hand.
The effect was magical.
"Straight on till ye come to the crossroads, then the second turnin' to the richt, and there ye are."
There is nothing like knowing how to speak Scotch when you go to Scotland.