It's sown in dishonour, and raised in glory.

Hoot! hoot! ye _are_ ignorant, man!" Macwha got more nettled still at his tone of superiority.
"Wad it be a glorifeed timmer-leg he rase wi', gin he had been buried wi' a timmer-leg ?" asked he.
"His ain leg wad be buried some gait." "Ow ay! nae doubt.

An' it wad come happin' ower the Paceefic, or the Atlantic, to jine its oreeginal stump--wad it no?
But supposin' the man had been born _wantin'_ a leg--eh, Thamas ?" "George! George!" said Thomas, with great solemnity, "luik ye efter yer sowl, an' the Lord'ill luik after yer body, legs an' a'! Man, ye're no convertit, an' hoo can ye unnerstan' the things o' the speerit?
Aye jeerin', an' jeerin'!" "Weel! weel! Thamas," rejoined Macwha, mollified in perceiving that he had not had altogether the worst in the tilt of words; "I wad only tak' the leeberty o' thinkin' that, when He was aboot it, the Almighty micht as weel mak' a new body a'thegither, as gang patchin' up the auld ane.
Sae I s' twa hame." "Mind ye yer immortal pairt, George," said Thomas with a final thrust, as he likewise rose to go home with him on the box of the hearse.
"Gin the Lord tak's sic guid care o' the body, Thamas," retorted Macwha, with less of irreverence than appeared in his words, "maybe he winna objec' to gie a look to my puir soul as weel; for they say it's worth a hantle mair.

I wish he wad, for he kens better nor me hoo to set aboot the job." So saying, he strode briskly over the graves and out of the churchyard, leaving Thomas to follow as fast as suited his unwieldy strength..