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And, puir man! it was waur for him nor for me and Milton; for it was a' his ain wyte; and it was no to be expecket he cud be sae quaiet as anither. But he had no richt to queston the ways o' the Maker. But it's bonnie, rael bonnie." "Noo, I'll jist read to ye what Milton says aboot his ain blin'ness. But it's some ill to unnerstan'." "Maybe I'll unnerstan' 't better nor you, bairn. Read awa'."
"Weel, ye see, Tibbie," answered Thomas, "it's nearhan' as ill for the like o' us to unnerstan' your blin'ness as it may be for you to unnerstan' oor sicht." "Deed maybe neyther o' 's kens muckle aboot oor ain gift either o' sicht or blin'ness. Say onything ye like, gin ye dinna tell me, as the bairn here ance did, that I cudna ken what the licht was.
"Noo," said Tibbie, "ye'll jist read a chapter till me, lassie, afore ye gang hame, and syne I s' gang to my bed. Blin'ness is a sair savin' o' can'les." She forgot that it was summer, when, in those northern regions, the night has no time to gather before the sun is flashing again in the east.
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