"
"But o' a' things," resumed the cobbler, "luik 'at ye lo'e fairplay.
Fairplay 's a won'erfu' word--a gran' thing constantly lost sicht
o'. Man, I hae been tryin' to win at the duin' o' the richt this
mony a year, but I daurna yet lat mysel' ac' upo' the spur o' the
moment whaur my ain enterest 's concernt: my ain side micht yet
blin' me to the ither man's side o' the business. Onybody can
un'erstan' his ain richt, but it taks trible an' thoucht to
un'erstan' what anither coonts his richt. Twa richts canna weel
clash. It's a wrang an' a richt, or pairt wrang an' a pairt richt
'at clashes."
"Gien a'body did that, I doobt there wad be feow fortins made!" said
Donal.
"Aboot that I canna say, no kennin'; I daurna discover a law whaur I
haena knowledge! But this same fairplay lies, alang wi' love, at
the varra rute and f'undation o' the universe. The theologians had
a glimmer o' the fac' whan they made sae muckle o' justice, only
their justice is sic a meeserable sma' bit plaister eemage o'
justice, 'at it maist gars an honest body lauch. They seem to me
like shepherds 'at rive doon the door-posts, an' syne block up the
door wi' them."
Donal told him of the quarrel he had had with lord Forgue, and asked
him whether he thought he had done right.
"Weel," answered the cobbler, "I'm as far frae blamin' you as I am
frae justifeein' the yoong lord.
Pages:
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129