It's little we can ken what God to love, or hoo
to love him, withoot "thy neighbour as thyself." Ony ane o' them
withoot the ither stan's like the ae factor o' a multiplication, or
ae wing upo' a laverock (lark).'
Towards the close of the week, he grew much feebler. Falconer
scarcely left his room. He woke one midnight, and murmured as
follows, with many pauses for breath and strength:
'Robert, my time's near, I'm thinkin'; for, wakin' an' sleepin', I'm
a bairn again. I can hardly believe whiles 'at my father hasna a
grup o' my han'. A meenute ago I was traivellin' throu a terrible
driftin' 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 or thereaboots. An' syne I thocht I heard my mither
singin', and kent by that that the ither was a dream. I'm thinkin'
a hantle 'ill luik dreamy afore lang. Eh! I wonner what the final
waukin' 'ill be like.'
After a pause he resumed,
'Robert, my dear boy, ye're i' the richt gait. Haud on an' lat
naething turn ye aside. Man, it's a great comfort to me to think
that ye're my ain flesh and blude, an' nae that far aff. My father
an' your great-gran'father upo' the gran'mither's side war ain
brithers. I wonner hoo far doon it wad gang. Ye're the only ane
upo' my father's side, you and yer father, gin he be alive, that I
hae sib to me.
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