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Updated: May 8, 2025
"Ye micht hae gotten a hantel oot o' that." "Ay. But ye see, he said the Lord was merciful to ither fowk whan he rendert to the wicked the punishment due to them. And I cudna richtly feel i' my hert that I cud praise the Lord for that mercy." "I dinna wonner, my bairn." "But eh! Mr Cupples, Mr Turnbull's no like that aye. He's bonnie upo' the Gospel news. I wiss ye wad gang and hear him the nicht.
An' syne I thocht I heard my mither singin', and kent by that that the ither was a dream. I'm thinkin' a hantle 'ill luik dreamy afore lang. Eh! I wonner what the final waukin' 'ill be like. After a pause he resumed, 'Robert, my dear boy, ye're i' the richt gait. Haud on an' lat naething turn ye aside.
Nae doot that's blaudit mony a face 'the want o' original richteousness, and the corruption o' our whole natur'. The wonner is that we're like him at a'. But we maun be like him, for he was a man born o' a wumman. Think o' that, lass!" At this moment the latch of the door was lifted, and in walked Robert Bruce.
"We dinna hear 'at the Saviour himsel' ever sae muckle as smiled," said he. "Weel, that wad hae been little wonner, wi' what he had upo' 'm. But I'm nae sure that he didna, for a' that. Fowk disna aye tell whan a body lauchs.
"Dae ye ken 'at yon hizzy ye've ta'en intill yer hoose ca's hersel' Mary Gemmell?" "Oh, well, what's in a name?" "I wonner tae hear ye, Davvit! What wad yer faither hae thocht aboot it, or yer gran'faither? Gie'n the femly name, that's come doon unspotted frae ae generation till anither, tae a funnlin' aff the streets! Ou, ay!
Yielding to an impulse of experiment, Robert began to play again. Thereupon her disordered ideas broke out in words. And Robert soon began to feel that it could hardly be more ghastly to look upon a ghost than to be taken for one. 'Ay, ay, sir, said the old woman, in a tone of commiseration, 'it maun be sair to bide. I dinna wonner 'at ye canna lie still.
Aye whan ane is ta'en frae ane, Ane on earth is left alane, Twa in heaven are knit again. Whan God's hairst is in or lang, Golden-heidit, ripe, and thrang, Syne begins a better sang." She looked up, and Curly was walking through the broad river to where she sat. "I kent ye a mile aff, Annie," he said. "I'm glaid to see ye, Curly." "I wonner gin ye'll be as glaid to see me the neist time, Annie."
"It does seem strange," said the master thoughtfully, after a pause, "that some women should be allowed to be mothers that through them sons and daughters of God should come into the world thief babies, say! human parasites, with no choice but feed on the social body!" "I wonner what God thinks aboot it a'! It gars a body spier whether he cares or no," said Malcolm gloomily.
"A crocodile!" said Mark as he gazed excitedly into the clear water at the plainly defined shape of the little saurian, for it was not above four feet long. "Wait a minute," whispered Billy; "I'll give him such a wonner in the skull," and picking up a heavy piece of stone from the many lying in the half-dry river-bed he pitched it with fairly good aim just above the basking reptile.
The old man was silent, and Miss Horn resumed the main subject of their conversation. "But though he michtna objec' till a father 'at he wasna jist Hector or Golia' o' Gath," she said, "ye canna wonner 'at the yoong laad no carin' to hae sic a mither." "And what would pe ta harm with ta mother? Will she not pe a coot woman, and a coot letty more to ta bargain?"
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