"Well, Duncan," said the venerable doctor, "can ye not wait till after worship?"
"No, doctor; I must speak to you now, for it is a matter upon my conscience."
"Oh, since it is a matter of conscience, tell me what it is; but be brief, Duncan, for time presses."
"The matter is this, doctor. Ye see the clock yonder on the face of the new church? Well, there is no clock really there—nothing but the face of the clock. There is no truth in it, but only once in the twelve hours. Now it is, in my mind, very wrong, and quite against my conscience, that there should be a lie on the face of the house of the Lord."
"Duncan, I will consider the point. I am glad to see you looking so well. You are not young now; I remember you for many years; and what a fine head of hair you have still!"
"Eh, doctor, you are joking now; it is long since I have had my hair."
"Oh, Duncan, Duncan, are you going into the house of the Lord with a lie upon your head?"
This settled the question, and the doctor heard no more of the lie on the face of the clock.
A Poacher's Prayer
Jamie Hamilton, a noted poacher at Crawfordjohn, was once asked by a woman to pray for a poor old woman who was lying at the point of death.