My Man Sandy

he door sin' syne. There was a nesty plook cam' oot juist abune his lug on Setarday, an' he cudna get on his lum hat; so he had to bide at hame a' Sabbath, an' he spen

k's a dose o' medicin', an' starts to wirry awa' at Bunyan or the Bib

pie Mertin alang wi' them. Gairner Winton cam' in to speer what had come ower Sandy, for he hadna seen him at the kirk. Ye never saw sic a hoosefu'! Sandy was sittin' at the fireside wi' an auld g

ays, says I, juist to stop them yabblin' aboot politic

se he made o't, aboot Elijah bein' taen up to heaven in the fiery chariot, an' comin' again a hunder or a thoosand 'ear efter, juist the same billie as he gaed awa

ver grow a bit aulder in heaven. The thing appears to me to be ridic'lous. Elijah, a thoosand 'ear efte

put in the Smith; "but, faigs,

think he was meent for a minister, he says things that cle

e bit lassie she was, Bawbie, as ye'll mind. She was juist seven past when she was taen awa'; an' when I meet her again, I wud like her to be juist the same bonnie bit lassokie that cam' in wi' her pawlie that Setarday efternune an' tell'd me she had a sair heid-the henmist

he thing too, I think," said the Gairner;

syne. It was a puir wammily-lookin' cratur, an' was only but aucht days auld when it took bruntkadis an' closed, juist in an 'oor or twa. Mysie, puir cratur, never kent. She was brainish a' the time, an' she follow'd her bairnie twa days efter.

hurl in a coach," said the Tailor. "I dinna see hoo Mysi

a dwang to the lassies,

t a'body in heaven 'ill be juist i' their prime. I've thocht to mysel' that a' the men folk wud be, say,

Mertin. Stumpie's a tailor, ye see, an' I suppose he'd

ze," says Sandy; "it's the auldnes

o' get dune or dotal, like what they do i' this world, undootedly; but there'll be young fowk for them to guide an' advise. It wud be a pui

, whaur there'll be nae trauchle or trouble wi' onything; but I doot we maun juist tak'

an' raley, Sandy, I dinna think I cud be happy onywey if I didna hae my studio an' my hammer wi' me; for I'm juist meeserable when I'm hingin' aboot idle. As for singin', I canna sing a single bum. It's no' like the thing ava for weel-

lor's precentin', Mertin got as raised as a wasp, and he yattered back-"You'll maybe be bett

right place amon' angels an' sic like billies. But I tell ye what it is, I maun wirk for my livin' in heaven as weel's her

t there'll be mony kinds o' occupation too. There'll be a chance for's a' bein'

up oor heids aboot a place we may never get till; an', I'm thinkin', it'll be better for's a' to stick in

en I lookit at the tnock, here, it was five meenits to ten. We'd been argeyin