“It’s no very likely he’ll pray for rain for my neeps,” was the blunt response, “when his ain hay’s no in yet.”
It is quite true that—
“If self the wavering balance shake,
It’s rarely richt adjusted.”
But perhaps this worldly-minded agriculturist wronged his minister. There have been many kind, generous souls among them. I remember, says Dr. John Brown, a story of a good, old Anti-Burgher minister. It was in the days when dancing was held to be a great sin, and was dealt with by the Sessions. Jessie, a comely, blythe, and good young woman, and a great favourite of the minister, had been guilty of dancing at a friend’s wedding. She was summoned before the Session to be “dealt with”—the grim old fellows sternly concentrating their eyes upon her as she stood trembling in her striped short-gown and her petticoat. The Doctor, who was one of divinity, and a deep thinker, greatly pitying her and himself, said, “Jessie, my woman, were ye dancin’?”
“Yes,” sobbed Jessie.
“Ye maun e’en promise never to dance again, Jessie.”
“I will, sir; I will promise” (with a curtsey).
“Noo, what were ye thinkin’ o’, Jessie, when ye were dancin’?—tell us truly,” said an old elder, who had been a poacher in youth.
“Nae ill, sir,” sabbed out the dear little woman.