session, than even the Pope of Rome himself; for he came to teach
the flagrant heresy of Universal Redemption, a most consolatory

doctrine to the sinner that is loth to repent, and who loves to
troll his iniquity like a sweet morsel under his tongue. Mr Martin

Siftwell, who was the last ta'en on elder, and who had received a
liberal and judicious education, and was, moreover, naturally

possessed of a quick penetration, observed, in speaking of this new
doctrine, that the grossest papist sinner might have some qualms of

fear after he had bought the Pope's pardon, and might thereby be led
to a reformation of life; but that the doctrine of universal

redemption was a bribe to commit sin, the wickedest mortal,
according to it, being only liable to a few thousand years, more or

less, of suffering, which, compared with eternity, was but a
momentary pang, like having a tooth drawn for the toothache. Mr

Siftwell is a shrewd and clear-seeing man in points of theology, and
I would trust a great deal to what he says, as I have not, at my

advanced age, such a mind for the kittle crudities of polemical
investigation that I had in my younger years, especially when I was

a student in the Divinity Hall of Glasgow.
It will be seen from all I have herein recorded, that, in the course

of this year, there was a general resuscitation of religious
sentiments; for what happened in my parish was but a type and index

to the rest of the world. We had, however, one memorable that must
stand by itself; for although neither death nor bloodshed happened,

yet was it cause of the fear of both.
A rumour reached us from the Clyde, that a French man-of-war had

appeared in a Highland loch, and that all the Greenock volunteers
had embarked in merchant vessels to bring her in for a prize. Our

volunteers were just jumping and yowling, like chained dogs, to be
at her too; but the colonel, Sir Hugh, would do nothing without

orders from his superiors. Mr Cayenne, though an aged man above
seventy, was as bold as a lion, and came forth in the old garb of an

American huntsman, like, as I was told, a Robin Hood in the play is;
and it was just a sport to see him, feckless man, trying to march so

crousely with his lean, shaking hands. But the whole affair proved
a false alarm, and our men, when they heard it, were as well pleased

that they had been constrained to sleep in their warm beds at home,
instead of lying on coils of cables, like the gallant Greenock

sharp-shooters.
CHAPTER XLVI YEAR 1805

For some time I had meditated a reformation in the parish, and this
year I carried the same into effect. I had often noticed with

concern, that, out of a mistaken notion of paying respect to the
dead, my people were wont to go to great lengths at their burials,

and dealt round short-bread and sugar-biscuit, with wine and other
confections, as if there had been no ha'd in their hands; which

straitened many a poor family, making the dispensation of the Lord a
heavier temporal calamity than it should naturally have been.

Accordingly, on consulting with Mrs Balwhidder, who has a most
judicious judgment, it was thought that my interference would go a

great way to lighten the evil. I therefore advised with those whose
friends were taken from them, not to make that amplitude of

preparation which used to be the fashion, nor to continue handing
about as long as the folk would take, but only at the very most to

go no more than three times round with the service. Objections were
made to this, as if it would be thought mean; but I put on a stern

visage, and told them, that if they did more I would rise up, and
rebuke and forbid the extravagance. So three services became the

uttermost modicum at all burials. This was doing much, but it was
not all that I wished to do.

I considered that the best reformations are those which proceed step
by step, and stop at that point where the consent to what has been

established becomes general; and so I governed myself, and therefore
interfered no farther; but I was determined to set an example.

Accordingly, at the very next dregy, after I partook of one service,
I made a bow to the servitors and they passed on, but all before me

had partaken of the second service; some, however, of those after me
did as I did, so I foresaw that in a quiet canny way I would bring

in the fashion of being satisfied with one service. I therefore,
from that time, always took my place as near as possible to the

door, where the chief mourner sat, and made a point of nodding away
the second service, which has now grown into a custom, to the great

advantage of surviving relations.
But in this reforming business I was not altogether pleased with our

poet; for he took a pawkie view of my endeavours, and indited a
ballad on the subject, in the which he makes a clattering carlin

describe what took place, so as to turn a very solemn matter into a
kind of derision. When he brought his verse and read it to me, I

told him that I thought it was overly natural; for I could not find
another term to designate the cause of the dissatisfaction that I

had with it; but Mrs Balwhidder said that it might help my plan if
it were made public; so upon her advice we got some of Mr Lorimore's

best writers to make copies of it for distribution, which was not
without fruit and influence. But a sore thing happened at the very

next burial. As soon as the nodding away of the second service
began, I could see that the gravity of the whole meeting was

discomposed; and some of the irreverent young chiels almost broke
out into even-down laughter, which vexed me exceedingly. Mrs

Balwhidder, howsoever, comforted me by saying, that custom in time
would make it familiar, and by-and-by the thing would pass as a

matter of course, until one service would be all that folk would
offer; and truly the thing is coming to that, for only two services

are now handed round, and the second is regularly nodded by.
CHAPTER XLVII YEAR 1806

Mr Cayenne of Wheatrig having for several years been in a declining
way, partly brought on by the consuming fire of his furious passion,

and partly by the decay of old age, sent for me on the evening of
the first Sabbath of March in this year. I was surprised at the

message, and went to the Wheatrig House directly, where, by the
lights in the windows as I gaed up through the policy to the door, I

saw something extraordinary was going on. Sambo, the blackamoor
servant, opened the door, and, without speaking, shook his head; for

it was an affectionate creature, and as fond of his master as if he
had been his own father. By this sign I guessed that the old

gentleman was thought to be drawing near his latter end; so I walked
softly after Sambo up the stair, and was shown into the chamber

where Mr Cayenne, since he had been confined to the house, usually
sat. His wife had been dead some years before.

Mr Cayenne was sitting in his easy chair, with a white cotton
nightcap on his head, and a pillow at his shoulders to keep him

straight. But his head had fallen down on his breast, and he
breathed like a panting baby. His legs were swelled, and his feet

rested on a footstool. His face, which was wont to be the colour of
a peony rose, was of a yellow hue, with a patch of red on each cheek

like a wafer; and his nose was shirpit and sharp, and of an
unnatural purple. Death was evidently fighting with nature for the

possession of the body. "Heaven have mercy on his soul!" said I to
myself, as I sat down beside him.

When I had been seated some time, the power was given him to raise
his head as it were a-jee; and he looked at me with the tail of his

eye, which I saw was glittering and glassy. "Doctor," for he always
called me doctor, though I am not of that degree, "I am glad to see

you," were his words, uttered with some difficulty.
"How do you find yourself, sir?" I replied, in a sympathising

manner.
"Damned bad," said he, as if I had been the cause of his suffering.

I was daunted to the very heart to hear him in such an unregenerate
state; but after a short pause I addressed myself to him again,

saying, that "I hoped he would soon be more at ease; and he should
bear in mind that the Lord chasteneth whom he loveth."

"The devil take such love!" was his awful answer, which was to me as