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."

To another who had gone through a long course of parish official life a
gentleman one day remarked--"John, ye hae been sae lang about the
minister's hand that I dare say ye could preach a sermon yersell now."
To which John modestly replied, "O na, sir, I couldna preach a sermon,
but maybe I could draw an inference." "Well, John," said the gentleman,
humouring the quiet vanity of the beadle, "what inference could ye draw
frae this text, 'A wild ass snuffeth up the wind at her pleasure?'"
(Jer. ii. 24). "Weel, sir, I wad draw this inference, he would snuff a
lang time afore he would fatten upon't." I had an anecdote from a
friend, of a reply from a betheral to the minister _in_ church, which
was quaint and amusing from the shrewd self-importance it indicated in
his own acuteness. The clergyman had been annoyed during the course of
his sermon by the restlessness and occasional whining of a dog, which at
last began to bark outright. He looked out for the beadle, and directed
him very peremptorily, "John, carry that dog out." John, looked up to
the pulpit, and with a very knowing expression, said, "Na, na, sir; I'se
just mak him gae out on his ain four legs." I have another story of
canine misbehaviour in church. A dog was present during the service, and
in the sermon the worthy minister was in the habit of speaking very
loud, and, in fact, when he got warmed with his subject, of shouting
almost at the top of his voice. The dog, who, in the early part, had
been very quiet, became quite excited, as is not uncommon with some dogs
when hearing a noise, and from whinging and whining, as the speaker's
voice rose loud and strong, at last began to bark and howl. The
minister, naturally much annoyed at the interruption, called upon the
betheral to put out the dog, who at once expressed his readiness to obey
the order, but could not resist the temptation to look up to the pulpit,
and to say very significantly, "Ay, ay, sir; but indeed it was yersell
began it." There is a dog story connected with Reminiscences of Glasgow
(see _Chambers's Journal_, March 1855), which is full of meaning. The
bowls of rum-punch which so remarkably characterised the Glasgow dinners
of last century and the early part of the present, it is to be fe