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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Robert Falconer"

Only I'm feared I may fa' asleep the
nicht, for I was dooms sleepy this mornin'.'
'I will send Johnston as soon as I get home, and you must go to bed
when he comes.'
''Deed, doctor, that winna do at a'. It wad be ower mony strange
faces a'thegither. We'll get Mistress Fyvie to luik till 'im the
day, an' Shargar canna work the morn, bein' Sunday. An' I'll gang
to my bed for fear o' doin' waur, though I doobt I winna sleep i'
the daylicht.'
Dr. Anderson was satisfied, and went home--cogitating much. This
boy, this cousin of his, made a vortex of good about him into which
whoever came near it was drawn. He seemed at the same time quite
unaware of anything worthy in his conduct. The good he did sprung
from some inward necessity, with just enough in it of the salt of
choice to keep it from losing its savour. To these cogitations of
Dr. Anderson, I add that there was no conscious exercise of religion
in it--for there his mind was all at sea. Of course I believe
notwithstanding that religion had much, I ought to say everything,
to do with it. Robert had not yet found in God a reason for being
true to his fellows; but, if God was leading him to be the man he
became, how could any good results of this leading be other than
religion? All good is of God. Robert began where he could. The
first table was too high for him; he began with the second. If a
man love his brother whom he hath seen, the love of God whom he hath
not seen, is not very far off.


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