ON A KIRK BAZAAR FOR a rale hard-working, conscientious minister, an’ a langheided, intelligent, an’ faur-seeing elder, oor Auld Kirk at Stra’bungo is no tae be bate. We—that is, the minister an’ me between us—hae filled the kirk tae overflowin’, an’ haein’ had tae turn awa’ dizzens o’ applicants, we’ve nae alternative than tae erect a new ane, ane mair suited to the times than oor dear auld biggin’ which was only meant for Stra’bungo when it wis a bit colliers’ cluchan. So we’re tae hae a bazaur—a hale bazaur a’ tae oorsels. I’m tae be superintendent, heid man that is, second only to the minister. Ye’ll no see me at ony particular staun, but jist moving aboot, giein’ a general look ower everything. I’ve had an awfu’ fortnicht getting a’ in order. It’s been naething but telegraphs an’ telephones fleein’ in an’ oot at a’ oors o’ the day an’ nicht tae the coal ree—an’ the number o’ nicht goons, an’ tea cosies, an’ sich like that I hae had tae pass is beyond belief. Even the vera piano that’s tae be raffled I had tae try. My dochter an’ me tried it—she played an’ I sang, an’ the music man said oor duet was beeyutiful. But he didna need tae tell me that, I could see mysel’ it wis by the crood that gathered roon his window tae listen. But, as I wis saying, the mere fact o’ me passing onything is a sufficient guarantee that it will be "o’ the vera best material, made by highly-paid workmen in our ain weel-lichted an’ properly-ventilated workshops," as the tailors say. Mr Pinkerton is assistant superintendent, an’ the way that worthy man has wrocht, in season an’ oot o’ season, commands the minister's an’ my ain highest respect. The ither nicht, hooever, when he rung me up at one o’clock in the morning tae ask if I had mindit tae announce a holiday in Stra’bungo for the bazaur, I had jist tae tell him, "Ye’re far ower earnest, Mr. Pinkerton." "Oh, Mr Kaye," be replied, I’ve put my hand tae the ploo, as oor beloved minister says, an’ I’m no goin’ tae turn back again till I get tae the heid o’ the rig, onyway." As a’ oor workers are animated wi’ a like spirit, the bazaur is bound tae be a success. Everybody in Stra’bungo is workin’ wi’ a will, an’ contributing as their means ‘ll alloo them, an’ I hope the ootside public, for whose benefit in the way o’ bargains we hae been workin’ sae lang, ‘ll come forrit an’ cheer us wi’ their presence. If there’s ony siller ower what we want—as I sincerely hope there may—we can easily fin’ a road for’t, by presenting the beadle wi’ a new swallow-tail coat or putting a lot mair tapitoories on the steeple. In addition to the bazaur proper, the citizens o’ Glasgow ‘ll be astonished at the constant succession o’ novelties her young sister oot in Stra’bungo has provided tae delight, amuse, an’ instruct, every separate item haein’ a guid aim. For instance, on Thursday, Mrs M’Cracken, oor respectit postmistress, is tae gie a lecture on "The dark secrets o’ the postal service, as gathered frae fifteen years’ diligent reading o’ the post-cards." On Friday, Mr M’Cunn is tae read an essay on "The ancient canoe an’ the twa Roman hauf-croons found in the bed o’ the river Bungo during the late dry summer"; and, on Saturday, Mr Pinkerton an’ myself will appear for the first time before a Glasgow audience in a new one-act drama, entitled "The Bounding Brothers o’ the Pyrenees," in the course o’ which Mr Pinkerton will dance the sailor’s hornpipe. The oors for these will be announced in the hall. The tickets for the course o’ the three hae been nearly a’ bocht up already—a few may still be had at five shillings each. Ye folk aboot Henry Irving—come an’ see us. Ye'll never go tae the theatre again. Then at intervals the precentor an’ the beadle will gie what is ca’d a drawing-room entertainment entitled "Ten minutes o' Magic, or the Cavern o’ Mysteries." This is really a wonderful thing. The time they were practising in the session-hoose I used tae go ower an’ tak’ a smoke, an’ the way they cood tak’ a hauf-croon oot o’ one pocket an’ put it in anither, an’ put a penny in their pocket an’ bring it oot o’ the leg o’ their troosers, wis maist extror’nar. They’re rale clever tae be jist amatures. An’ we’re tae hae a waxwork, BAILIE. A movin’ waxwork, M’Leod’s in the Trongate ‘ll be like a sma’ star blinkin’ in the licht o’ the sum compared wi’t. We’ll hae in it a’ the illustrious sons o’ Glasgow, as the showman says "as large as life, twice as handsome, and three times as natural." Then we’ll hae a museum the like o’ which never was seen before. Nane o’ thae common kind wi’ the cat wi’ the three heids in a gless bottle, but- Weel, I’m no allooed tae say ony mair; let every one come an’ judge for themsel’s. An "Art Gallery," nae less, is anither o’ the novelties. Glasgow Exhibition had a won’erfu’ fine collection o’ picters; Edinburgh Exhibition wis weel cried up; but it remains for us, for Stra’bungo, tae show ye what an Art Gallery should be. The gems of art that we will show are sae rare an' sae costly that nae insurance company wid hae anything tae doe wi’ them. An’ min’ ye, BAILIE, thae things are a’ in addition to what I may ca’ the bazaur proper. In it there will be a’ kins o’ things, dress improvers, frying pans, scented soap, hair peens, finnan haddies—no, no, I’m wrang, there’s nae finnan haddies; dolls wi’ gless een an’ wigs, picter books, pens and ink, velocipedes, trumpets, an’ a lot o’ things that I never heard o’ before. As we want everybody tae come early an’ stay the haill day, we hae fitted up a gran’ refreshment staun. We hae nae license, but we’ll hae lime juice an’ milk an’ zoedone. It’ll be easily seen, for ower the tap o’t there will be hung a bit o’ poetry I made mysel’; in confidence I’ll tell ye what it is— Come in, dear freens, an’ you will find The broon cow’s milk jist tae your mind. The minister wanted me tae add anither verse, but I said "No, that’s nate an’ tae the pint." In conclusion, BAILIE, I wid hae liket tae tell’t ye mair, but really I’ve little time tae write onybody, so I will jist say that it’s tae be in the Victoria Halls, West Regent Street, on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday o’ this week, an’ let you an’ everybody came tae oor bazaur and oblige.