"Ah, sir," said a gloomy-looking minister of the Scotch Kirk, addressing a stranger who was standing on the bridge of the Lord of the Isles, as she steamed through the Kyles of Bute, "does the thought ever occur to ye of the great oncertainty of life?"
"Indeed it does," returned the stranger, briskly, "many times a day."
"And have you ever reflected, sir," went on the minister, "that we may be launched into eternity at any instant?"
"Yes," returned the stranger, "I have thought of that, and said it, too, thousands of times."
"Indeed," ejaculated the parson; "then it is possible I am speaking to a brother meenister?"
"Well, no," answered the other promptly, "you are not. If you must know, I am traveling agent of the Royal Lynx Life Assurance Association; and, if you are not assured, I can strongly recommend you to give our office a turn. You will find special terms for ministers in Table K of our prospectus"; and handing the astonished divine a printed leaflet from his satchel, he left him without another word.
Providing a Mouthful for the Cow
Old Maggie Dee had fully her share of Scotch prudence and economy. One bonnet had served her turn for upwards of a dozen years, and some young ladies who lived in the neighborhood, in offering to make and present her with a new one, asked whether she would prefer silk or straw as material.
"Weel, my lassies," said Maggie, after mature deliberation, "since ye insist on giein' me a bonnet, I think I'll tak' a strae ane; it will, maybe, juist be a mou'fu' to the coo when I'm through wi't."
A Poor Place for a Cadger