"I soupit (swept) the poupit," was John's expressive reply.
The minister's accumulated superfluous Sabbath snuff now came into good use.
Sleepy Churchgoers
The bowls of rum punch which so remarkably characterized the Glasgow dinners of last century, and the early part of the present, it is to be feared, made some of the congregation given to somnolency on the Sundays following. The members of the town council often adopted Saturdays for such meetings; accordingly, the Rev. Mr. Thorn, an excellent clergyman, took occasion to mark this propensity with some acerbity. A dog had been very troublesome, when the minister at last gave orders to the beadle, "Take out that dog; he'd wauken a Glasgow magistrate." [[7]]
A Highland Chief and His Doctor
Dr. Gregory (of immortal mixture memory) used to tell a story of an old Highland chieftain, intended to show how such Celtic potentates were once held to be superior to all the usual considerations which affected ordinary mortals. The doctor, after due examination, had, in his usual decided and blunt manner, pronounced the liver of a Highlander to be at fault, and to be the cause of his ill-health. His patient, who could not but consider this as taking a great liberty with a Highland chieftain, roared out, "And what business is it of yours whether I have a liver or not?"
"Rippets" and Humility
The following is a dry Scottish case of a minister's wife quietly "kaming her husband's head." Mr. Mair, a Scotch minister, was rather short-tempered, and had a wife named Rebecca, whom, for brevity's sake, he addressed as Becky. He kept a diary and among other entries this one was very frequent—"Becky and I had a rippet, for which I desire to be humble."
A gentleman who had been on a visit to the minister went to Edinburgh, and told the story to a minister and his wife there, when the lady replied, "Weel, he must have been an excellent man, Mr. Mair. My husband and I some times, too, have 'rippets' but catch him if he's ever humble." [[7]]
"Kaming" Her Ain Head