five poun' note o' that verra
indentical nummer. What say ye to that, Robert Bruce?"

A silence followed. Thomas himself broke it with the words:

"That money he oucht to hae supposed was Mr Cooie's, and returned it
till's dochters. But he pays't intil's ain accoont. Ca' ye na that a
breach o' the eicht commandment, Robert Bruce?"

But now Robert Bruce rose. And he spoke with solemnity and pathos.

"It's a sair thing, sirs, that amo' Christians, wha ca' themsel's a
chosen priesthood and a peculiar people, a jined member o' the same
church should meet wi' sic ill-guideship as I hae met wi' at the han's
o' Mr Crann. To say naething o' his no bein' ashamed to confess bein'
sic a heepocreet i' the sicht o' God as to luik aboot him upon his
knees, lyin' in wait for a man to do him hurt whan he pretendit to be
worshippin' wi' him afore the Lord his Maker, to say naething o' that
which I wadna hae expeckit o' him, he gangs aboot for auchteen months
contrivin' to bring that man to disgrace because he daurna mak' sic a
strong profession as he mak's himsel'. But the warst o' 't a' is, that
he beguiles a young thochtless bairn, wha has been the cause o' muckle
discomfort in oor hoose, to jine him i' the plot. It's true eneuch that
I took the bank-note frae the Bible, whilk was a verra unshuitable
place to put the unrichteous mammon intil, and min's me upo' the
money-changers i' the temple; and it's true that I paid it into the
bank the neist day--"

"What garred ye deny't, than?" interrupted Thomas.

"Bide a wee, Mr Crann, and caw canny. Ye hae been hearkened till wi'oot
interruption, and I maun hae fair play here whatever I get frae
yersel'. I didna deny the fac. Wha could deny a fac? But I denied a'
the haill affair, i' the licht o' wickedness and thievin' that Mr Crann
was castin' upo' 't. _I_ saw that inscription and read it wi' my ain
een the verra day the lassie brocht the beuk, and kenned as weel's Mr
Crann that the siller wasna to be taen hame again. But I said to
mysel': "It'll turn the lassie's heid, and she'll jist fling't awa' in
murlocks (crumbs) upo' sweeties, and plunky, and sic like,' for she was
aye greedy, 'sae I'll jist pit it into the bank wi' my ain, and accoont
for't efterhin wi' the lave o' her bit siller whan I gie that up intil
her ain han's. Noo, Mr Crann!"

He sat down, and Mr Turnbull rose.

"My Christian brethren," he said, "it seems to me that this is not the
proper place to discuss such a qu