And seein a fig‐tree by the way, he cam tillʼt and fund naething onʼt but leaves; and quoʼ he, “Lat thar be nae frute oʼ thee frae this forrit, for evir!” And belyve, the fig‐tree dwined awa!
“Gin ony man bide‐na in me, he is cuisten oot as a fushionless branch, and dwines awa; and folk soop them thegither, and set them alowe, and they are brunt.
Tak ye tent that ye rejeck‐na him that speaks! for gin they escapʼt?-?na wha rejeckit him wha on yirth was warnin them, hoo muckle less sal we escape, gin we turn oorsels awa frae him wha warns us frae Heeven!