No anecdote can better illustrate the practical basis of the Scotch mind than the following:—“John,” said a minister to one of his congregation, “I hope you hold family worship regularly.”
“Aye,” said John, “in the time o’ year o’t.”
“In the time o’ year o’t! What do you mean, John?”
“Ye ken, sir, we canna see in the winter nichts.”
“But, John, can’t you buy candles?”
“Weel, I could,” replied John, “but in that case I’m dootin’ the cost would owergang the profit.”
And practical in the management of their devotional exercises, there is a practical side to the grief of Scotch folk. “Dinna greet amang your parritch, Geordie,” said one to another, “they’re thin eneuch already.” And the story is told of an Aberdeenshire woman who, when on the occasion of the death of her husband the minister’s wife came to condole with her, and said—“It is a great loss you have sustained, Janet.”
She replied, “Deed is’t, my lady. An’ I’ve just been sittin’ here greetin’ a’ day, an’ as sune as I get this bowliefu’ o’ kail suppit I’m gaun to begin an’ greet again.”
“You have had a sore affliction, Margaret,” said a minister once to a Scotch matron in circumstances similar to the heroine of the above story. “A sore affliction indeed; but I hope you are not altogether without consolation.”
“Na,” said Margaret, “an’ I’m no that, sir; for gin He has ta’en awa’ the saul, it’s a great consolation for me to think that He’s ta’en awa’ the stammick as weel.”