"
"Ye can bide an' hae worship wi' 's, gien ye tak the buik yersel'."
"I canna lead whaur 's nane to follow. Na; I'll du better on the
muir my lane."
But the gudewife was a religions woman after her fashion--who can be
after any one else's? She came with a bible in her hand, and
silently laid it on the table. Donal had never yet prayed aloud
except in a murmur by himself on the hill, but, thus invited, could
not refuse. He read a psalm of trouble, breaking into hope at the
close, then spoke as follows:--
"Freens, I'm but yoong, as ye see, an' never afore daured open my
moo i' sic fashion, but it comes to me to speyk, an' wi' yer leave
speyk I wull. I canna help thinkin' the gudeman 's i' some
trible--siclike, maybe, as King Dawvid whan he made the psalm I hae
been readin' i' yer hearin'. Ye observt hoo it began like a stormy
mornin', but ye h'ard hoo it changed or a' was dune. The sun comes
oot bonny i' the en', an' ye hear the birds beginnin' to sing,
tellin' Natur' to gie ower her greitin'. An' what brings the guid
man til's senses, div ye think? What but jist the thoucht o' him
'at made him, him 'at cares aboot him, him 'at maun come to ill
himsel' 'afore he lat onything he made come to ill. Sir, lat's gang
doon upo' oor knees, an' commit the keepin' o' oor sowls to him as
til a faithfu' creator, wha winna miss his pairt 'atween him an'
hiz.
Pages:
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43