unusual Psalm was given out, he looked up at the preacher with the remark, "That's a gey kittle ain, ye maun just try that yersel, Maister Davidson." The only sacrament was Communion, served on what used to be literally tables, on the model of a banquet in a baronial hall. The long strip of white linen, the bread and the goblet or loving cup handed round, followed exactly the custom in the big house on company days. A solemn exercise was the fencing of the tables, for the good things of the faith were not for the Gentiles. Strong on minor morals must that minister have been who thus wound up the solemn exercise of fencing the tables at Communion—"Brethren, I debar from the sacred ordinance any man that pits twa fingers into his neebor's mull but one intill his ain."
Of more consequence socially was a burial. The beadle, often fresh from shovelling out the mools or soil, went from house to house telling when the corp would lift. The friends met the evening before for a mild dairgie (dirge, from the Psalm in the Vulgate, "Domine, dirige nos") lyke-wake fashion, at the kistin' of the weel-streikit corpse. The company at a kistin' were horrified when the newly-made widow went up to the coffin, and bringing down her fist on the lid, exclaimed, "He wuzz an ill neebor there whaur he lies." There was here the long-suppressed tragedy of her married life. Next day, in the darkened parlour, the social glass was handed round before leaving for the grave, and in solemn silence, save when, as once, a bucolic voice was heard to utter his usual toast, "May never waur be amon's." The gathering of cummers (commère) for a christening was a more genial function. The goodman had to arrange some evenings before with the minister. One good wife, probably used to genteel ways when in service, schooled John well for the occasion. "Mind, when the minister speers, ye'r no to cau'd the bairn, but the infant." And in due course came this colloquy in the manse parlour. "Well, is it a boy this time, John?" "No." "Ah, then it's a bit lassie." "It's no that nether." "Dear me, John, what can it be then?" "I'm no very sure, but the wife tell't me to cau'd the elephant." The cries or banns preceded a marriage. In due time came the day when the procession trudged up the manse loan, the groom carrying in his button-hole "the rock and wee pickle tow."
