Robert Falconer

mother, left the next day by the steamer. Falconer took to wandering about the labyrinthine city, and in a couple of months knew more about the metropolis-the west end excepted-than most people wh

almost a craze with him. He could not pass a dirty court or low-browed archway. He might be there. Or he might have b

one, Falconer easily apologized. If there was, he made such replies as might lead to some betrayal. He could not defend the course he was adopting: it had not the shadow of probability upon

object became a centre from which radiated a thousand influences upon those who were as sheep that had no shepherd. He fell back into his old ways at Aberdeen, only with a boundless sphere to work in, and with the hope of fin

eir mistake, and if not soon, then the more completely. Far from provoking or even meeting hostility, he soon satisfied those that persisted, that it was dangerous. In two years he be

en I came to know him. He made few acquaintances, and they were chie

he many lonely heaths or commons of Surrey with his New Testament. When weary in London, he would go to the

im freely with money, had not even expressed a wish to recall him, though he had often spoken of visiting him in London. It now appeared that, unwilling to cause him any needless anxi

n want of a few pounds to save his hopes, when this friend received him and bid him God-speed on the path he desired to follow. In a

I maun gang an' lat him ken 'at ye're here at last, for fear it suld be ower muckle for him, seein' ye a'

om unchanged, with its deal table, and its sanded floor-lay the form of his friend. Falconer hastened to the bedside, kneeled down, and took his hand speechless. The doctor was silen

or me?' he said. 'Ye neve

interrupt what you were doing. I wonder if God will give me another chance. I would fain

comes, I hae you to thank for 't. Eh

overcame him. He

and my frien' was awa to God. Ye hae made me, doctor. Wi' meat an'

ks us a' to ane anither! My father did ten times for me what I hae dune for you.

bucolic, and weather-beaten through centuries of windy ploughing, hail-stormed sheep-keeping, long-paced seed-sowing, and multiform labour, surely not less honourable in the

his, Robert again si

I never saw that fear that some gude fowk wud hae ye believe maun come at the last. I wadna like to tak to ony papistry; but I never cud mak oot frae the Bible-and I read mair at it i' t

ugh better scholars say his tree had fa'en mony a lang year afore that text saw the licht. I dinna believe sic a thocht wa

from that wonderful book, so little understood, becau

waters: for thou shalt

o to eight; for thou knowest not

e earth: and if the tree fall toward the south, or toward the

all not sow; and he that regar

w the bones do grow in the womb of her that is with child:

t thine hand: for thou knowest not whether shall prosper, ei

eved onything for certain sure. But whan I think aboot it-wad ye believe 't? the faith o' my father's mair to me nor ony faith o' my ain. That soonds strange. But it's this: I'm positeeve that that godly great auld man kent mair aboot a' thae things-I cud see 't i' the fa

the spirit of our Lord dwells, or rather the key to open the heart for the entrance of that spirit, turned now from all argumentation to the words of Jesus. He himself had said of them, 'They are spirit and they are life;' and what folly to buttress life

my ain hert some o' the risin' smoke o' the sacrifice. Eh! sic words as they are! An' he was gaein' doon to the grav

s,' return

upo' my bed, slippin' eas

too sacred for speech. Robert sat with th

ckle o' that pride to the lave (rest) that belangs to the Brahmin. It was raither a stately kin'ness than that condescension which is the vice o' Christians. But he had naething to do wi' them. The first comman'ment was a' he kent. He loved God-nae a God like Jesus Christ, but the God he kent-and that was a' he could. The second comman'ment-that glorious recognition

ch Robert and the doctor had had toget

'to lat him ken aboot the comin' o

idna seem to tak muckle hauld o' him. It wasna interesstin' till him. Just ance whan I tellt him some things he had said aboot his relation to God-sic as, "I and my Father are one,"

n ken what God to love, or hoo to love him, withoot "thy neighbour as thyself." Ony ane o' them wi

ner scarcely left his room. He woke one midnight, and murm

' o' snaw-eh, hoo it whustled and sang! and the cauld o' 't was stingin'; but my father had a grup o' me, an' I jist despised it, an' was stampin' 't doon wi' my wee bit feet, for I was like saven year auld

pause he

ry:-I hae left ye ilka plack 'at I possess. Only there's ae thing that I want ye to do. First o' a', ye maun gang on as yer doin' in London for ten year mair. Gin deein' men hae ony o' that foresicht that's been attreebuted to them in a' ages, it's borne in upo' me that ye wull see yer father again. At a' events, ye'll be helpin' some ill-faured sowls to a clean face and a bonny. But gin ye dinna fa' in wi' yer father within ten year, ye maun behaud a wee, an' jist pack up yer box,

as now breathing like a child. There was no sign save of past suffering: his countenance was peaceful as if he had already entered into his res

wn. To the region whither he goes, the man enters newly born. We forget that it is a birth, and call it a death. The body he leaves behind is but the placenta by which he drew his nourishment from his mother Earth. And as the child-bed is

t looks back to his childhood. When Dr. Anderson knew that he wa

rmurous sounds, for the lips were nearly at rest. Wanted no more for

he tone and speech of a Scotch laddie, '

closed, as if it had been grasping a larger hand. On the face lay confidence just ruffled with apprehension: the latte

d thanked God f