The kindly feelings and interest of the pastoral relation always formed a very pleasing intercourse between minister and people.  I have received from an anonymous correspondent an anecdote illustrative of this happy connection, for which he vouches as authentic:—­

John Brown, Burgher minister at Whitburn (son of the commentator, and father of the late Rev. Dr. John Brown of Edinburgh, and grandfather of the present accomplished M.D. of the same name, author of “Rab and his Friends,” etc.), in the early part of the century was travelling on a small sheltie[21] to attend the summer sacrament at Haddington.  Between Musselburgh and Tranent he overtook one of his own people.  “What are ye daein’ here, Janet, and whaur ye gaun in this warm weather?” “’Deed, sir,” quo’ Janet, “I’m gaun to Haddington for the occasion[22] an’ expeck to hear ye preach this efternoon.”  “Very weel, Janet, but whaur ye gaun tae sleep?” “I dinna ken, sir, but Providence is aye kind, an’ll provide a bed.”  On Mr. Brown jogged, but kindly thought of his humble follower; accordingly, after service in the afternoon, before pronouncing the blessing, he said from the pulpit, “Whaur’s the auld wifie that followed me frae Whitburn?” “Here I’m, sir,” uttered a shrill voice from a back seat.  “Aweel,” said Mr. Brown, “I have fand ye a bed; ye’re to sleep wi’ Johnnie Fife’s lass.”

There was at all times amongst the older Scottish peasantry a bold assertion of their religious opinions, and strong expression of their feelings.  The spirit of the Covenanters lingered amongst the aged people whom I remember, but which time has considerably softened down.  We have some recent authentic instances of this readiness in Scotsmen to bear testimony to their principles:—­

A friend has informed me that the late Lord Rutherfurd often told with much interest of a rebuke which he received from a shepherd, near Bonaly, amongst the Pentlands.  He had entered into conversation with him, and was complaining bitterly of the weather, which prevented him enjoying his visit to the country, and said hastily and unguardedly, “What a d—­d mist!” and then expressed his wonder how or for what purpose there should have been such a thing created as east wind.  The shepherd, a tall, grim figure, turned sharp round upon him.  “What ails ye at the mist, sir? it weets the sod, it slockens the yowes, and”—­adding with much solemnity—­“it’s God’s wull;” and turned away with lofty indignation.  Lord Rutherfurd used to repeat this with much candour as a fine specimen of a rebuke from a sincere and simple mind.

There was something very striking in the homely, quaint, and severe expressions on religious subjects which marked the old-fashioned piety of persons shadowed forth in Sir Walter Scott’s Davie Deans.  We may add to the rebuke of the shepherd of Bonaly, of Lord Rutherfurd’s remark about the east wind, his answer to Lord Cockburn, the proprietor of Bonaly.  He was sitting on the hill-side with the shepherd, and observing the sheep reposing in the coldest situation, he observed to him, “John, if I were a sheep, I would lie on the other side of the hill.”  The shepherd answered, “Ay, my lord, but if ye had been a sheep ye would hae had mair sense.”