It was but
the year afore the last that the people o' the town o'
Auchtermuchty grew so rigidly righteous that the meanest hind
among them became a shining light in ither towns an' parishes.
There was naught to be heard, neither night nor day, but
preaching, praying, argumentation, an' catechising in a' the
famous town o' Auchtermuchty. The young men wooed their
sweethearts out o' the Song o' Solomon, an' the girls returned
answers in strings o' verses out o' the Psalms. At the lint-swinglings,
they said questions round; and read chapters, and sang hymns at
bridals; auld and young prayed in their dreams, an' prophesied in
their sleep, till the deils in the farrest nooks o' Hell were alarmed,
and moved to commotion. Gin it hadna been an auld carl, Robin
Ruthven, Auchtermuchty wad at that time hae been ruined and
lost for ever. But Robin was a cunning man, an' had rather mae
wits than his ain, for he had been in the hands o' the fairies when
he was young, an' a' kinds o' spirits were visible to his een, an'
their language as familiar to him as his ain mother tongue. Robin
was sitting on the side o' the West Lowmond, ae still gloomy
night in September, when he saw a bridal o' corbie craws coming
east the lift, just on the edge o' the gloaming.
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