I do not know--I
cannot know if there is anything outside of me.'
'But gin there warna, there wad be naebody for ye to love, Mr.
Ericson.'
'Of course not.'
'Nor naebody to love you, Mr. Ericson.'
'Of course not.'
'Syne ye wad be yer ain God, Mr. Ericson.'
'Yes. That would follow.'
'I canna imagine a waur hell--closed in amo' naething--wi' naething
a' aboot ye, luikin' something a' the time--kennin' 'at it 's a' a
lee, and nae able to win clear o' 't.'
'It is hell, my boy, or anything worse you can call it.'
'What for suld ye believe that, than, Mr. Ericson? I wadna believe
sic an ill thing as that. I dinna think I cud believe 't, gin ye
war to pruv 't to me.'
'I don't believe it. Nobody could prove that either, even if it
were so. I am only miserable that I can't prove the contrary.'
'Suppose there war a God, Mr. Ericson, do ye think ye bude (behoved)
to be able to pruv that? Do ye think God cud stan' to be pruved as
gin he war something sma' eneuch to be turned roon' and roon', and
luikit at upo' ilka side? Gin there war a God, wadna it jist be
sae--that we cudna prove him to be, I mean?'
'Perhaps. That is something. I have often thought of that. But
then you can't prove anything about it.'
'I canna help thinkin' o' what Mr. Innes said to me ance. I was but
a laddie, but I never forgot it. I plaguit him sair wi' wantin' to
unnerstan' ilka thing afore I wad gang on wi' my questons (sums).
Pages:
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387