The Last Word
The Minister was noted far beyond the bounds
of his Parish for his scholarship and his skill in apt quotation, and one
old member had brought a stranger with him to the morning service for what
he promised would be a literary feast.
The expectant couple occupied a front pew and
no sooner was the Sermon under way when the regular member began making
audible remarks to his neighbour; identifying the sources of certain
passages in the pulpit discourse.
"Ach - that's a bit o Shakespeare" he
would announce. "Ay an that'll be frae Wordsworth" and so on.
Interjections and commentary of this kind went on at regular intervals
until at last the Minister's patience was exhausted.
Finally in exasperation he leaned over the
pulpit and asked "if his brother in the front pew would be kind enough to
keep his remarks to himself."
But the disturber was not to be so easily
subdued.
"An that" he proudly explained to his
fellow worshipper "is a bittie o his ain."
