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Updated: May 14, 2025
It whirls onwards now as it has done before my birth, and will do after my death a revolving mystery, coming none know whence, and going none know whither. Upon the outer crust of this moving mass crawl many mites, of whom I, John M'Vittie, am one, helpless, impotent, being dragged aimlessly through space.
These words, as I have said, I wrote down in my note-book, and they reflected accurately the thoughts which I found rooted far down in my soul, ever present and unaffected by the passing emotions of the hour. At last, however, came a time when my uncle, M'Vittie of Glencairn, died the same who was at one time chairman of committees of the House of Commons.
There's a muckle ship gaun ashore on the reef, and the puir folks are a' yammerin' and ca'in' for help and I doobt they'll a' be drooned. Oh, Maister M'Vittie, come doun!" "Hold your tongue, you hag!" I shouted back in a passion. "What is it to you whether they are drowned or not? Get back to your bed and leave me alone." I turned in again and drew the blankets over me.
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