Friend Mac Donald

"No."

"Shall I preach?"

The professor pulled out his penny without "asking for further change."

I cannot take leave of performing beggars without relating a little incident that I was a witness of in Edinburgh:

A beggar came up to me, asking for alms.

"You have a violin there," I said to him; "but you do not play it. How is that?"

"Oh, sir!" he replied; "give me a penny, and don't make me play. I assure you you won't regret it."

I understood his delicacy, and to show him that I appreciated it launched out my penny.

"But," I added, "do you never use your violin?"

"Yes, sir, sometimes," he said, lowering his voice, "as a threat."

I lost my penny, but saved my ears.

CHAPTER XI

The Scotch Sabbath. – The Saviour in the Cornfield. – A good Advertisement. – Difference between the Inside and the Outside of a Tramcar. – How useful it is to be able to speak Scotch in Scotland. – Sermon and Lesson on Balistics at Edinburgh. – If you do Evil on the Sabbath, do it well.

The Lord's day is not called Sunday in Scotland, but the Sabbath, which is more biblical.

The Scotch Sabbath beats the English Sunday into fits.

I thought, in my innocence, that the English Sunday was not to be matched.

Delusion on my part.

How hope to give a description of the Scotch Sabbath? It is an undertaking that might frighten a far more clever pen than mine.

Happily, in this also, the Scotch anecdote comes to my rescue.

Here is one, to begin with, which will show once more how difficult it is to trip up a Scotchman. Nothing is sacred for him when he wants to get himself out of a difficulty.

A Free Kirk minister met a member of his congregation, and thus addressed her:

"Mary, I am glad to have met you; for I have something on my mind that I have been anxious to speak to you of for a long while. I have heard – but it surely cannot be – I have heard that you sometimes go for a walk on the blessed Sabbath."

"Ay, meenister, it is quite true; but I read in the Bible that Our Lord walked through the cornfields on the Sabbath day."

"I do not deny it," replied the good man, a little disconcerted; "but," he added, recovering his self-possession, "let me tell you that if the Saviour did take a walk on the Sabbath, I dinna think the more of Him for 't."

I one day read, in an Edinburgh paper, the following letter, addressed to the editor of the paper by a Scotch minister. This minister had been accused by his antagonist of having been seen taking a walk through one of the parks on the Sabbath.

What an advertisement that letter was!

This is how it ran:

"Certain malevolent and unscrupulous persons have dared to set afloat the rumour that I was seen in the Queen's Park on the Sabbath. I utterly deny the accusation. I never take walks on the Sabbath. Allow me also to add that, though by going through the park I should considerably shorten the walk from my house to the church, I avoid doing so. Let my enemies watch me, if they feel inclined, and they will see that I go round."

It seems impossible to beat that; but what do you think of the following, which at all events runs it close?

The little scene happened at Edinburgh one Sunday.

My host and I were going to hear a preacher at some distance from the centre of the town.

In Princes Street we hailed an omnibus.

I, in my simplicity, prepared to mount on the top, when I felt someone pulling at my coat-tails. It was my companion, who was going inside, and who made a sign to me to follow.

"What! you ride inside on such a lovely day!" I exclaimed, taking my seat at his side.

"On week-days it is all very well to go outside, but on the Sabbath the interior is more respectable."

The following little anecdote, which was told me in the north of Scotland, proves that the Highlander knows how to reconcile his scruples with his interests, even on the Holy Sabbath day:

My friend, walking one day in the neighbourhood of Braemar, all at once perceived that he had lost his way.

Meeting a peasant, he asked him to put him on the right track.

"Eh!" said the rustic, "you are breaking the Sawbath, and you are served richt. The Lord is punishin' ye…"

This little sermon bid fair to last some time. My friend slipped a shilling into the peasant's hand.

The effect was magical.

"Straight on till ye come to the crossroads, then the second turnin' to the richt, and there ye are."

There is nothing like knowing how to speak Scotch when you go to Scotland.

Yet, the real old Scotch Sabbath is almost passing away.

Some lament it, others rejoice at it; but all the Scotch admit that their forefathers would be horrified at the things that pass in these days.

And indeed things must have greatly changed.

Now there are those who take walks on the Sabbath. What do I say, walks? There are those who ride velocipedes – Heaven forgive them! There are to be seen – no offence to my worthy host – there are to be seen poor harmless folk degenerate enough to go and sniff the fresh air on the top of an omnibus. They are not the unco' guid, but still they are Scotch.

Where is the time when Scotch cooks refused to use a roasting-jack on Sunday because it worked and made a noise?

Where is the time when a Scotchman almost found fault with his hens for laying eggs on the Sabbath?

Where are the days when Donald considered it shocking to introduce music into divine service?