Him 'at canna trust in siclike
conditions, I wadna gie a plack for ony ither kin' o' faith he may
hae. God 's nae a mere thoucht i' the warl' o' thoucht, but a
leevin' pooer in a' warl's alike. Him 'at gangs to God wi' a sair
heid 'ill the suner gang til 'im wi' a sair hert; an' them 'at
thinksna he cares for the pains o' their bodies 'ill ill believe he
cares for the doobts an' perplexities o' their inquirin' speerits.
To my min' he spak the best o' sense!"
"I didna hear him say onything like that!" said Donal.
"Did ye no? Weel, I thoucht it cam frae him to me!"
"Maybe I wasna giein' the best heed," said Donal. "But what ye say
is as true as the sun. It stan's to rizzon."
The day passed in pleasure and quiet. Donal had found another
father and mother.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE GATE.
The next day, after breakfast, Donal said to his host--
"Noo I maun pey ye for my shune, for gien I dinna pey at ance, I
canna tell hoo muckle to ca' my ain, an' what I hae to gang by till
I get mair."
"Na, na," returned the cobbler. "There's jist ae preejudice I hae
left concernin' the Sawbath-day; I firmly believe it a preejudice,
for siller 's the Lord's tu, but I canna win ower 't: I canna bring
mysel' to tak siller for ony wark dune upo' 't! Sae ye maun jist be
content to lat that flee stick to the Lord's wa'. Ye'll du as
muckle for me some day!"
"There's naething left me but to thank ye," said Donal.
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