I slapped him on the back, and said:-- "Do you remember, Geordie, that muff in Thalaba who chose the wrong cloud?
He should have got you or me to choose for him; we wouldn't have made a mistake, I know.

We would have chosen such a one as yon glorious big-bellied fellow.

See how grandly he comes growling up!" "It's just come," said he, "without the praying for.

When the fire came owre the hill the other day, I just put up a bit prayer to the Lord, that He'd spare the haystack, and He spared it.

(I didna stop working, ye ken; I worked the harder; if ye dinna mean to work, ye should na pray.) But I never prayed for rain,--I didna, ye see, like to ask the Lord to upset all his gran' laws of electricity and evaporation, just because it would suit us.