He's no alarm clock." "Then you can't tell what sort of a preacher he is," said Sandy with a twinkle in his eye.

"You can't hear much when you are asleep." "I hear enough to know that he's no good as a preacher.

I hear they're going to fire him." "I tell you what it is, Stewart," said Sandy, "I don't believe you would know a good sermon if you heard one." "What's that you say?
I've heard the best preachers in the country that breeds preachers, in the country where preachers grow like the berries on the bramble bushes.

I know preaching, and I like good preaching, too." "Oh, come off, Stewart! You may be a good judge of dogs, but I'm blowed if I am going to take you as a judge of preachers." "The same qualities in all of them, dogs, horses, preachers," insisted Duff.
"How do you make that out ?" "Well, take a horse.

He must be a good-looker.