h other.

He concluded, crooning over his eternal ditty, by way of thanksgiving
after meat--

"If I was in bed and fast asleep
I wouldn't get up for a score of sheep."

This distich had the gift of always infuriating Aunt Janet.

"You may well say so," she cried, clattering away with an armful of
dishes in a way that was a protest in itself; "considering all you are
good for when you _do_ get up, you might just as well be in bed fast
asleep, and----"

"Now there you're wrong, Miss Janet," said Boyd. "It was only last
Sunday that I gave up all my evil courses and became one of Israel
Kinmont's folk. My heart is changed," he added solemnly; "I gave it to
the Lord, and He seen fit to convart me!"

The whole household looked up. Anything bearing on personal religion
instantly touched Scots folk of the humble sort. But Aunt Jen was
obdurate. Long experience had rendered her sceptical with regard to Boyd
Connoway.

"We'll soon see if you are converted to the Lord," she said. "_He_ is a
hard worker. There are no idlers on His estates. If it's true, we may
get these pigs covered in to-night yet."

"Never trouble your head about the pigs, Miss Janet," said Boyd, "they
will surely sleep safe under a roof this night. Strive to fix your mind
on higher things, Miss Jen. There's such a thing as makin' a god of this
here transient evil world, as I said to Bridget when the potatoes went
bad just because I got no time to 'pit' them, having had to play the
fiddle at four kirns'[2] in different parishes during potato-lifting
week!"

"Never mind about that," said my grandfather from his seat in the
chimney corner, "tell us about your 'conversion'!"

For the word was then a new one in Galloway, and of no good savour
either among orthodox Cameronians or pillars of the Kirk as by law
established. But Israel Kinmont had been a sailor to far ports. In his
youth he had heard Whitefield preach. He had followed Wesley's folk afar
off. The career of a humble evangelist attracted him, and when in his
latter days he had saved enough to buy the oldest and worst of all
luggers that ever sailed the sea, he devoted himself, not to the gainful
traffic of smuggling, but to the unremunerative transport of sea-coal
and lime from Cockermouth and Workington to the small ports and inlets
of the Galloway coast.

No excisemen watching on the cliffs gave more than a single glance at
"Israel's Tabernacle," as, without the least irreverence, h