"wudna wonder but what it was makkin' for rain." Tammas Haggart and
Pete Lunan dander into sight bareheaded, and have to stretch out
their hands to discover what the weather is like. By-and-bye they
come to a standstill to discuss the immortality of the soul, and
then they are looking silently at the Bull. Neither speaks, but they
begin to move toward the inn at the same time, and its door closes
on them before they know what they are doing. A few minutes
afterward Jinny Dundas, who is Pete's wife, runs straight for the
Bull in her short gown, which is tucked up very high, and emerges
with her husband soon afterward. Jinny is voluble, but Pete says
nothing. Tammas follows later, putting his head out at the door
first, and looking cautiously about him to see if any one is in
sight. Pete is a U.P., and may be left to his fate, but the Auld
Licht minister thinks that, though it be hard work, Tammas is worth
saving.

To the Auld Licht of the past there were three degrees of damnation--
auld kirk, playacting, chapel. Chapel was the name always given to the
English Church, of which I am too much an Auld Licht myself to care to
write even now. To belong to the chapel was, in Thrums, to be a Roman
Catholic, and the boy who flung a clod of earth at the English minister-
-who called the Sabbath Sunday--or dropped a "divet" down his chimney
was held to be in the right way. The only pleasant story Thrums could
tell of the chapel was that its steeple once fell. It is surprising that
an English church was ever suffered to be built in such a place; though
probably the county gentry had something to do with it. They travelled
about too much to be good men. Small though Thrums used to be, it had
four kirks in all before the disruption, and then another, which split
into two immediately afterward. The spire of the parish church, known as
the auld kirk, commands a view of the square, from which the entrance to