t
Monks' Brae. You can go to Monks' Brae to hear him, if you will; I, of
course, shall not be able to accompany you, but I trust to find an
opportunity when he preaches in the fields, if there be one. I should
like to hear this great English preacher, I confess. What say you?"

"They'll go, you may be sure, Sir," said Angus, before we could answer.
"Trust a lassie to gad about if she has the chance. Mind you take all
the pocket-handkerchiefs you have with you. They say 'tis dreadful the
way this man gars you greet. 'Tis true, you English are more given that
way than we Scots; but folks say you cannot help yourself,--you must
cry, whether you will or no."

"I should like to go, I think, Uncle," said I. "Only--I suppose he is a
real clergyman?"

"There goes a genuine Englishwoman!" said Angus. "If Paul himself were
to preach, she would not go to hear him till she knew what bishop had
ordained him."

"Yes, Cary," answered my Uncle Drummond, smiling; "he is a real
clergyman. More `real' than you think me, I fear."

"Oh, you are different, Uncle," said I; "but I am sure Father would not
like me to hear any preacher who was not--at least--I don't know--he did
not seem to think this Mr Whitefield all right, somehow. Perhaps he
did not know he was a proper person."

"`A proper person!'" sighed Angus, casting up his eyes.

"My dear," said my Uncle Drummond, kindly, "you are a good lassie to
think of your father's wishes. Never mind Angus; he is only making fun,
and is a foolish young fellow yet. Of course, not having spoken with
your father, I cannot tell so well as yourself what his wishes are; and
'tis quite possible he may think, for I hear many do, that this
gentleman is a schismatic, and may disapprove of him on that account
only. If so, I can tell you for certain, 'tis a mistake. But as to
anything else, you must judge for yourself, and do what you think
right."

"You see no objection to our going, Father?" asked Flora, who had not
spoken hitherto.

"Not at all, my dear," said my Uncle. "Go by all means, if you like it.
You may never have another opportunity, and 'tis very natural you
should wish it."

"Thank you," answered Flora. "Then, if Angus will take me, I will go."

"Well, I don't know," said Angus. "I am afraid some of my handkerchiefs
are at the wash. I should not like to be quite drowned in my tears. I
might wash you away, too; and that would be a national calamity."

"Don't jes