to show anything like ignorance, poured forth, “Weel, ye see, the text last day was just entirely, sirs—­yes—­the text, sirs—­what was it again?—­ou ay, just entirely, ye see it was, ’What profiteth a man if he lose the world, and gain his own soul?’” Most of such stories are usually of an old standing.  A more recent one has been told me of a betheral of a royal burgh much decayed from former importance, and governed by a feeble municipality of old men, who continued in office, and in fact constituted rather the shadow than the substance of a corporation.  A clergyman from a distance having come to officiate in the parish church, the betheral, knowing the terms on which it was usual for the minister officiating to pray for the efficiency of the local magistracy, quietly cautioned the clergyman before service that, in regard to the town-council there, it would be quite out of place for him to pray that they should be a “terror to evil-doers,” because, as he said, “the puir auld bodies could be nae terror to onybody.”  A minister of Easter Anstruther, during the last century, used to say of the magistrates of Wester Anstruther, that “instead of being a terror to evil-doers, evil-doers were a terror to them.”

The “minister’s man” was a functionary well known in many parishes, and who often evinced much Scottish humour and original character.  These men were (like the betheral) great critics of sermons, and often severe upon strangers, sometimes with a sly hit at their own minister.  One of these, David, a well-known character, complimenting a young minister who had preached, told him, “Your introduction, sir, is aye grand; its worth a’ the rest o’ the sermon—­could ye no mak it a’ introduction?”

David’s criticisms of his master’s sermons were sometimes sharp enough and shrewd.  On one occasion, driving the minister home from a neighbouring church where he had been preaching, and who, as he thought, had acquitted himself pretty well, inquired of David what he thought of it.  The subject of discourse had been the escape of the Israelites from Egypt.  So David opened his criticism—­“Thocht o’t, sir? deed I thocht nocht o’t ava.  It was a vara imperfect discourse in ma opinion; ye did weel eneuch till ye took them through, but where did ye leave them? just daunerin’ o’ the sea-shore without a place to gang till.  Had it no been for Pharaoh they had been better on the other side, where they were comfortably encampit, than daunerin’ where ye left them.  It’s painful to hear a sermon stoppit afore it’s richt ended, just as it is to hear ane streekit out lang after it’s dune.  That’s ma opinion o’ the sermon ye gied us to-day.”  “Very freely given, David, very freely given; drive on a little faster, for I think ye’re daunerin’ noo yersell.”