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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Robert Falconer"

There was no return
of strength to the helpless arm, and his constitution was gradually
yielding.
The rumour got abroad that he was a 'changed character,'--how is not
far to seek, for Mr. Maccleary fancied himself the honoured
instrument of his conversion, whereas paralysis and the New
Testament were the chief agents, and even the violin had more share
in it than the minister. For the spirit of God lies all about the
spirit of man like a mighty sea, ready to rush in at the smallest
chink in the walls that shut him out from his own--walls which even
the tone of a violin afloat on the wind of that spirit is sometimes
enough to rend from battlement to base, as the blast of the rams'
horns rent the walls of Jericho. And now to the day of his death,
the shoemaker had need of nothing. Food, wine, and delicacies were
sent him by many who, while they considered him outside of the
kingdom, would have troubled themselves in no way about him. What
with visits of condolence and flattery, inquiries into his
experience, and long prayers by his bedside, they now did their best
to send him back among the swine. The soutar's humour, however,
aided by his violin, was a strong antidote against these evil
influences.
'I doobt I'm gaein' to dee, Robert,' he said at length one evening
as the lad sat by his bedside.
'Weel, that winna do ye nae ill,' answered Robert, adding with just
a touch of bitterness--'ye needna care aboot that.


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