He
feared argument, lest he should fail and wrong the right, but he
must not therefore hang back. He drew his chair towards the table.
"Wad ye lat a stranger put in a word, freen's?" he said.
"Ow ay, an' welcome! We setna up for the men o' Gotham."
"Weel, I wad spier a question gien I may."
"Speir awa'. Answer I winna insure," said the man unshaven.
"Weel, wad ye please tell me what ye ca' the justice o' God?"
"Onybody could tell ye that: it consists i' the punishment o' sin.
He gies ilka sinner what his sin deserves."
"That seems to me an unco ae-sidit definition o' justice."
"Weel, what wad ye mak o' 't?"
"I wad say justice means fair play; an' the justice o' God lies i'
this, 'at he gies ilka man, beast, an' deevil, fair play."
"I'm doobtfu' aboot that!" said a drover-looking fellow. "We maun
gang by the word; an' the word says he veesits the ineequities o'
the fathers upo' the children to the third an' fourth generation: I
never could see the fair play o' that!"
"Dinna ye meddle wi' things, John, 'at ye dinna un'erstan'; ye may
wauk i' the wrang box!" said the old man.
"I want to un'erstan'," returned John. "I'm no sayin' he disna du
richt; I'm only sayin' I canna see the fair play o' 't."
"It may weel be richt an' you no see 't!"
"Ay' weel that! But what for sud I no say I dinna see 't? Isna the
blin' man to say he's blin'?"
This was unanswerable, and Donal again spoke.
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