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Updated: June 29, 2025
There would be many tracks of those small feet in the morning snow, leading away across the fresh-fallen clouds from the house and cottage doors; for the barbarity of morning-school, that is, an hour and a half of dreary lessons before breakfast, was in full operation at Glamerton. The winter came. One morning, all the children awoke, and saw a white world around them.
Patches lay prone, tangled, spiky, and rough; and it was evident that if sunshine, strong, healthy sunshine, did not soon break out, the wretched mooncalf-prediction of Murdoch Malison would come true, for the corn, instead of ripening, would start a fresh growth, and the harvest would be a very bad one indeed, whether the people of Glamerton repented or not.
it was plain to all the senses that the autumn was drawing to a close. All the prophetic rumours of a bad harvest had proved themselves false. Never a better harvest had been gathered in the strath, nor had one ever been carried home in superior condition. But the passion for prophecy had not abated in Glamerton. It was a spiritual epidemic over the whole district.
But the moment Thomas went, Alec, had taken Annie to the forge to get her well-dried, before he would allow her to occupy her old place in the heap of spales. "Wha's preachin' at the missionar-kirk the morn, Willie?" asked the boy's father, For Willie knew everything that took place in Glamerton. "Mr Broon," answered Curly. "He's a guid man that, ony gait," returned his father.
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