t on serious subjects, my boy," said Uncle; and Angus grew
grave directly. "I am no enemy to honest, rational fun; 'tis human, and
natural more especially to the young. But never, never let us make a
jest of the things that pertain to God."

"I beg your pardon, Father," said Angus, in a low voice. "I'll take
you, Flora. What say you, Cary?"

"Yes, I should like to go," I said. And I wondered directly whether I
had said right or wrong. But I do so want to hear something that would
help me.

I found that Monks' Brae was on the Monksburn road, but nearly two miles
further on. 'Tis the high road from Selkirk to Galashiels, after you
leave Monksburn, and pretty well frequented; so that Angus was deemed
guard enough. But last night the whole road was so full of people going
to hear Mr Whitefield, that it was like walking in a crowd all the way.
The kirk was crammed to the very doors, and outside people stood
looking in and listening through the doors and the open windows. Mr
Lundie, the minister of Monks' Brae, led the worship (as they say here);
and when the sermon came, I looked with some curiosity at the great
preacher who did such unusual things, and whom some people seemed to
think it so wrong to like. Mr Whitefield is not anything particular to
look at: just a young man in a fair wig, with a round face and rosy
cheeks. He has a most musical voice, and he knows how to put it to the
best advantage. Every word is as distinct as can be, and his voice
rings out clear and strong, like a well-toned bell. But he had not
preached ten minutes before I forgot his voice and himself altogether,
and could think of nothing but what he was preaching about. And I never
heard such a sermon in my life. My Uncle Drummond's are the only ones I
have heard which even approach it, and he does not lift you up and carry
you away, as Mr Whitefield does.

All the other preachers I ever heard, except those two, are always
telling you to do something. Come to church, and say your prayers, and
take the Sacrament; but particularly, do your duty. Now it always seems
to me that there are two grand difficulties in the way of doing one's
duty. The first is, to find out what is one's duty. Of course there is
the Bible; but, if I may say it with reverence, the Bible has never
seemed to have much to do with me. It is all about people who lived
ever so long ago, and what they did; and what has that to do with me,
Cary Courtenay, and wh