With folk that will not listen to the voice of reason, it is needless to be wasterful of words; so them that like, may either prin their faith to my coat-sleeve, about what I am going to relate, or not--just as they choose.

All that I can say in my defence, and as an affidavy to my veracity, is, that I have been thirty year an elder of Maister Wiggie's kirk--and that is no joke.

The matter I make free to consider is not a laughing concern, nor any thing belonging to the Merry- Andrew line; and, if folk were but strong in the faith, there is no saying what may come to pass for their good.

One might as well hold up their brazen face, and pretend not to believe any thing--neither the Witch of Endor raising up Samuel; nor Cornel Gardener's vision; nor Johnny Wilkes and the De'il; nor Peden's prophecies.
Nanse and me aye made what they call an anniversary of our wedding-day, which happened to be the fifth of November, the very same as that on which the Gunpowder Plot chances to be occasionally held--Sundays excepted.

According to custom, this being the fourth year, we collected a good few friends to a tea-drinking; and had our cracks and a glass or two of toddy.