I am strongly tempted to give an account of a parish functionary in the words of a kind correspondent from Kilmarnock, although communicated in the following very flattering terms:—­“In common with every Scottish man worthy of the name, I have been delighted with your book, and have the ambition to add a pebble to the cairn, and accordingly send you a bellman story; it has, at least, the merit of being unprinted and unedited.”

The incumbent of Craigie parish, in this district of Ayrshire, had asked a Mr. Wood, tutor in the Cairnhill family, to officiate for him on a particular Sunday.  Mr. Wood, however, between the time of being asked and the appointed day, got intimation of the dangerous illness of his father; in the hurry of setting out to see him, he forgot to arrange for the pulpit being filled.  The bellman of Craigie parish, by name Matthew Dinning, and at this time about eighty years of age, was a very little “crined[175]” old man, and always wore a broad Scottish blue bonnet, with a red “bob” on the top.  The parish is a small rural one, so that Matthew knew every inhabitant in it, and had seen most of them grow up.  On this particular day, after the congregation had waited for some time, Matthew was seen to walk very slowly up the middle of the church, with the large Bible and psalm-book under his arm, to mount the pulpit stair; and after taking his bonnet off, and smoothing down his forehead with his “loof,” thus addressed the audience:—­

“My freens, there was ane Wuds tae hae preached here the day, but he has nayther comed himsell, nor had the ceevility tae sen’ us the scart o’ a pen.  Ye’ll bide here for ten meenonts, and gin naebody comes forrit in that time, ye can gang awa’ hame.  Some say his feyther’s dead; as for that I kenna.”

The following is another illustration of the character of the old Scottish betheral.  One of those worthies, who was parochial grave-digger, had been missing for two days or so, and the minister had in vain sent to discover him at most likely places.  He bethought, at last, to make inquiry at a “public” at some distance from the village, and on entering the door he met his man in the trance, quite fou, staggering out, supporting himself with a hand on each wa’.  To the minister’s sharp rebuke and rising wrath for his indecent and shameful behaviour, John, a wag in his way, and emboldened by liquor, made answer, “‘Deed, sir, sin’ I ca’d at the manse, I hae buried an auld wife, and I’ve just drucken her, hough an’ horn.”  Such was his candid admission of the manner in which he had disposed of the church fees paid for the interment.