another minister that they cocked their ears and leant
forward eagerly to snap the preacher up.

Mr. Dishart had his trials. There was the split in the kirk, too, that
comes once at least to every Auld Licht minister. He was long in
marrying. The congregation were thinking of approaching him, through
the medium of his servant, Easie Haggart, on the subject of matrimony;
for a bachelor coming on for twenty-two, with an income of eighty
pounds per annum, seemed an anomaly, when one day he took the canal for
Edinburgh and returned with his bride. His people nodded their heads,
but said nothing to the minister. If he did not choose to take them
into his confidence, it was no affair of theirs. That there was
something queer about the marriage, however, seemed certain. Sandy
Whamond, who was a soured man after losing his eldership, said that he
believed she had been an "Englishy"--in other words, had belonged to
the English Church; but it is not probable that Mr. Dishart would have
gone the length of that. The secret is buried in his grave. Easie
Haggart jagged the minister sorely. She grew loquacious with years,
and when he had company would stand at the door joining in the
conversation. If the company was another minister, she would take a
chair and discuss Mr. Dishart's infirmities with him. The Auld Lichts
loved their minister, but they saw even more clearly than himself the
necessity for his humiliation. His wife made all her children's
clothes, but Sanders Gow complained that she looked too like their
sister. In one week three of the children died, and on the Sabbath
following it rained. Mr. Dishart preached, twice breaking down
altogether and gaping strangely round the kirk (there was no dust
flying that day), and spoke of the rain as angels' tears for three
little girls. The Auld Lichts let it pass, but, as Lang Tammas said in
private (for, of course, the thing was much discussed at the looms), if
you materialize angels in that way, where are you going to stop?

It was on the Fast Days that the Auld Licht kirk showed what it was
capable of, and, so to speak, left all the other churches in Thrums far
behind. The Fast came round once every summer, beginning on a
Thursday, when all the looms were hushed, and two services were held in
the kirk of about three hours' length each. A minister from another
town assisted at these times, and when the service ended the members
filed in at one door and out at an