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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." 

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