“ Martha,” quoth he, “ I wouldna deceive ye for the world;
this is no’ my ain hair.”
“ Weel, weel,” quoth I, laughing; for I had jaloused as much. “It suits ye braw and weel; dinna fash yer head aboot the hair.”
“ Then I have a gran’ set o’ teeth,” says he, “ but ye ’ll be shocked to hear they are no’ my ain.”
“ And yer legs and arms,” quoth I, pinching him; “ are there ony o’ them timmer ? ”
Wi’ that he drew me to him, and gied me sic a kindly rive, I kent baith heart and limbs were hale and sound; and I felt I had great reason to be thankfu’ that at his time o’ life there wis sae muckle o’ him left, and that what wis left noo belonged entirely to mysel’.
Weel, we have had a heap o’ things to arrange. Willie Warstle, the bursar, has been a great concern to me from first to last, yet the laddie has gotten sic a hold on my affections, that I canna think to pairt wi’ him. It is quite clear to me, we can never mak’ him a minister. Efter a’ the trouble I’ve had, and the siller I've spent on him, it turns oot he canna believe in Everlasting Punishment. He’s as nice a laddie as ever walket in shoe-leather, is dux in the maist o’ his classes, and is perfect cleverness itsel’ at a logic argyment, but it wud be complete folly in me to aim at making a minister o’ a man that canna believe in Everlasting Punishment.
Weel, it’s a great pity, but I suppose it canna be helped. Thae professor bodies have a heap to answer for, in breeding sic notions i’ the minds o’ growing callants. My auld Sundayschule teacher, David Whammond—God rest him—wud grue in his coffin if he heard the belief noo openly proclaimed, that there is hope for the wicked beyond the grave! Still an’ on I canna gie the laddie up; Maister Fleming and I have had the
matter through hands in our cracks.
