t was a powerful
sarmon, and everybody was looking at everybody else. When the meetin'
was over, I met Andrew Hislop, a Sesayder, and I said to him, 'Annerew!'
says I, 'what do you think of that blast? Must we give up the pipe or be
Christians no more?' Says Andrew, 'Come along wi' me,' and I went to his
house and he took down a book off a shelf in his settin' room. 'Look at
this, Mr. Hill,' says he, 'you that have the book larnin', 'tis written
by these godly Sesayders, Ralph and Ebenezer Erskine, and is poetry.' I
took the book and read the piece, and what do you think it was?"

"Charles Lamb's farewell to tobacco," said Coristine wildly:--

Brother of Bacchus, later born,
The Old World were sure forlorn,
Wanting thee.

'No, sir; it was a 'Gospel Sonnet on Tobackka and Pipes'; pipes, mind
you, as well--all about this Indian weed, and the pipe which is so lily
white. Oh, sir, it was most improvin'. And that fanatic of a praycher,
not fit to blacken the Erskines' shoes, even if they were Sesayders! I
went home and I says, 'Rufus, my son,' and he says, 'Yes, fayther!' Says
I, 'Rufus, am I a Christian man, though frail and human, am I a
Christian man or am I not?' Rufus says, 'You are a Christian, fayther.'
Then says I, 'What is the praycher, Rufus, my boy?' and Rufus, that uses
tobackka in no shape nor form, says, 'He's a consayted, ignerant,
bigitted bladderskite of a Pharisee!' Sir, I was proud of that boy!'

"That was very fine of your son to stand up for his father like that.
You can't say that your foes were those of your own household. In such
cases, young people must do one of two things, despise their parents or
despise the preacher; and, when the parents go to church, the children,
unless they are young hypocrites, uniformly despise such preachers."

"Yes, and to think I had never told Rufus a word about the 'Gospel
Sonnets of the Sesayders!' It's a great pleasure, sir, to an old man
like me to smoke a pipe with a gentleman like yourself."

Coristine replied that it afforded him equal satisfaction, and they
puffed away with occasional remarks on the surrounding scenery.

Meanwhile, Wilkinson was striving to draw out the somewhat offended
mistress.

"Your husband tells me, Mrs. Hill, that you are of German parentage," he
remarked blandly.

"Yes," she replied; "my people were what they call Pennsylvania Dutch.
Do you know German, sir?"

"I have a book acquaintance