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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Robert Falconer"

'Mony a ane 'at says they believe in God has unco
little houp o' onything frae 's han', I'm thinkin'.'
My reader may have observed a little change for the better in
Robert's speech. Dr. Anderson had urged upon him the necessity of
being able at least to speak English; and he had been trying to
modify the antique Saxon dialect they used at Rothieden with the
newer and more refined English. But even when I knew him, he would
upon occasion, especially when the subject was religion or music,
fall back into the broadest Scotch. It was as if his heart could
not issue freely by any other gate than that of his grandmother
tongue.
Fearful of having his last remark contradicted--for he had an
instinctive desire that it should lie undisturbed where he had cast
it in the field of Ericson's mind, he hurried to another question.
'What for shouldna ye be a doctor?'
'Now you'll think me a fool, Robert, if I tell you why.'
'Far be it frae me to daur think sic a word, Mr. Ericson!' said
Robert devoutly.
'Well, I'll tell you, whether or not,' returned Ericson. 'I could, I
believe, amputate a living limb with considerable coolness; but put
a knife in a dead body I could not.'
'I think I know what you mean. Then you must he a lawyer.'
'A lawyer! O Lord!' said Ericson.
'Why not?' asked Robert, in some wonderment; for he could not
imagine Ericson acting from mere popular prejudice or fancy.
'Just think of spending one's life in an atmosphere of squabbles.


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