And, by the by, the word sound just reminds me of a very good beadle anecdote, and one which illustrates how expressive a monosyllable may sometimes be made. A certain country congregation had been hearing candidates, with a view to filling the pulpit. The third on the short leet, a young spark of a fellow, had preached, as it were, yesterday, and desiring to ascertain, not only what impression he had himself made, but also the esteem in which the members of the kirk held those who had preached before him, he sauntered around, looking for some suitable person to sound on the matter. In course of time he espied the beadle busily exercised in opening a grave, and, going towards the digger, he talked with him quietly for a time on matters likely to interest the rural inhabitant, and gradually arrived at the subject which was uppermost in his own mind.
“And what are the people saying about the candidate who preached first?” at length asked the budding divine.
“Soond!” replied John, throwing up a spadeful.
“And of the second one?” queried the preacher.
“No soond!” was the ready and emphatic answer.
“And do you know what opinion they entertain of myself?”
“A’ soond!” snorted the beadle, and drove the spade into the loam with a thud that was even more eloquent than the words of his mouth.
Perhaps it was to this self-same functionary that a gentleman one day remarked—
“Ye hae been sae lang aboot the minister’s hand, John, that I dare say ye could preach a sermon yersel’ noo.”
“Oh, na, sir,” was the modest reply; “I couldna preach a sermon.” Then, after a brief pause, he remarked, “But maybe I could draw an inference, though.”