the Bible, I wad whiles be
temp'it to think it wasnae the Lord, but the muckle, black deil that made
the sea. There's naething good comes oot o't but the fish; an' the
spentacle o' God riding on the tempest, to be shure, whilk would be what
Dauvit was likely ettling at. But, man, they were sair wonders that God
showed to the _Christ-Anna_--wonders, do I ca' them? Judgments, rather:
judgments in the mirk nicht among the draygons o' the deep. And their
souls--to think o' that--their souls, man, maybe no prepared! The sea--a
muckle yett to hell!'

I observed, as my uncle spoke, that his voice was unnaturally moved and
his manner unwontedly demonstrative. He leaned forward at these last
words, for example, and touched me on the knee with his spread fingers,
looking up into my face with a certain pallor, and I could see that his
eyes shone with a deep-seated fire, and that the lines about his mouth
were drawn and tremulous.

Even the entrance of Rorie, and the beginning of our meal, did not detach
him from his train of thought beyond a moment. He condescended, indeed,
to ask me some questions as to my success at college, but I thought it
was with half his mind; and even in his extempore grace, which was, as
usual, long and wandering, I could find the trace of his preoccupation,
praying, as he did, that God would 'remember in mercy fower puir,
feckless, fiddling, sinful creatures here by their lee-lane beside the
great and dowie waters.'

Soon there came an interchange of speeches between him and Rorie.

'Was it there?' asked my uncle.

'Ou, ay!' said Rorie.

I observed that they both spoke in a manner of aside, and with some show
of embarrassment, and that Mary herself appeared to colour, and looked
down on her plate. Partly to show my knowledge, and so relieve the party
from an awkward strain, partly because I was curious, I pursued the
subject.

'You mean the fish?' I asked.

'Whatten fish?' cried my uncle. 'Fish, quo' he! Fish! Your een are fu'
o' fatness, man; your heid dozened wi' carnal leir. Fish! it's a bogle!'

He spoke with great vehemence, as though angry; and perhaps I was not
very willing to be put down so shortly, for young men are disputatious.
At least I remember I retorted hotly, crying out upon childish
superstitions.

'And ye come frae the College!' sneered Uncle Gordon. 'Gude kens what
they learn folk there; it's no muckle service onyway. Do ye think, man,
that there's naething