Whereupon
Mr. Gilfillan, resolving that he should be a hearer at least, if not a
disputant, proceeded in his Jeremiad.
'And now is it wonderful, when, for lack of exercise anent the call to
the service of the altar and the duty of the day, ministers fall into
sinful compliances with patronage, and indemnities, and oaths, and
bonds, and, other corruptions,--is it wonderful, I say, that you, sir,
and other sic-like unhappy persons, should labour to build up your auld
Babel of iniquity, as in the bluidy persecuting saint-killing times? I
trow, gin ya werena blinded wi' the graces and favours, and services and
enjoyments, and employments and inheritances, of this wicked world, I
could prove to you, by the Scripture, in what a filthy rag ye put your
trust; and that your surplices, and your copes and vestments, are but
cast-off-garments of the muckle harlot, that sitteth upon seven hills,
and drinketh of the cup of abomination. But, I trow, ye are deaf
as adders upon that side of the head; aye, ye are deceived with her
enchantments, and ye traffic with her merchandise, and ye are drunk with
the cup of her fornication!'
How much longer this military theologist might have continued his
invective, in which he spared nobody but the scattered remnant of
HILL-FOLK, as he called them, is absolutely uncertain.
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