As he spoke, the polish of his speech was gone, and the social refinement of his countenance with it.The face of his ancestors, the noble, sensitive, heart-full, but rugged, bucolic, and weather-beaten through centuries of windy ploughing, hail-stormed sheep-keeping, long-paced seed-sowing, and multiform labour, surely not less honourable in the sight of the working God than the fighting of the noble, came back in the face of the dying physician.
>From that hour to his death he spoke the rugged dialect of his fathers.
A day or two after this, Robert again sitting by his bedside,'I dinna ken,' he said, 'whether it's richt--but I hae nae fear o'
deith, an' yet I canna say I'm sure aboot onything.I hae seen mony a ane dee that cud hae no faith i' the Saviour; but I never saw that fear that some gude fowk wud hae ye believe maun come at the last.
I wadna like to tak to ony papistry; but I never cud mak oot frae the Bible--and I read mair at it i' the jungle than maybe ye wad think--that it's a' ower wi' a body at their deith.I never heard them bring foret ony text but ane--the maist ridiculous hash 'at ever ye heard--to justifee 't.'
'I ken the text ye mean--"As the tree falleth so it shall lie," or something like that--'at they say King Solomon wrote, though better scholars say his tree had fa'en mony a lang year afore that text saw the licht.I dinna believe sic a thocht was i' the man's heid when he wrote it.It is as ye say--ower contemptible to ca' an argument.
I'll read it to ye ance mair.'
Robert got his Bible, and read the following portion from that wonderful book, so little understood, because it is so full of wisdom--the Book of Ecclesiastes:--'Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days.
'Give a portion to seven, and also to eight; for thou knowest not what evil shall be upon the earth.
'If the clouds be full of rain, they empty themselves upon the earth: and if the tree fall toward the south, or toward the north, in the place where the tree falleth, there it shall be.
'He that observeth the wind shall not sow; and he that regardeth the clouds shall not reap.
'As thou knowest not what is the way of the spirit, nor how the bones do grow in the womb of her that is with child: even so thou knowest not the works of God who maketh all.
'In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thine hand: for thou knowest not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or whether they both shall be alike good.'
'Ay, ay; that's it,' said Dr.Anderson.'Weel, I maun say again that they're ill aff for an argument that taks that for ane upo' sic a momentous subjec'.I prefer to say, wi' the same auld man, that Iknow not the works of God who maketh all.But I wish I could say Ibelieved onything for certain sure.But whan I think aboot it--wad ye believe 't? the faith o' my father's mair to me nor ony faith o'
my ain.That soonds strange.But it's this: I'm positeeve that that godly great auld man kent mair aboot a' thae things--I cud see 't i' the face o' 'm--nor ony ither man 'at ever I kent.An' it's no by comparison only.I'm sure he did ken.There was something atween God and him.An' I think he wasna likely to be wrang; an'
sae I tak courage to believe as muckle as I can, though maybe no sae muckle as I fain wad.'
Robert, who from experience of himself, and the observations he had made by the bedsides of not a few dying men and women, knew well that nothing but the truth itself can carry its own conviction; that the words of our Lord are a body as it were in which the spirit of our Lord dwells, or rather the key to open the heart for the entrance of that spirit, turned now from all argumentation to the words of Jesus.He himself had said of them, 'They are spirit and they are life;' and what folly to buttress life and spirit with other powers than their own! From that day to the last, as often and as long as the dying man was able to listen to him, he read from the glad news just the words of the Lord.As he read thus, one fading afternoon, the doctor broke out with,'Eh, Robert, the patience o' him! He didna quench the smokin' flax.
There's little fire aboot me, but surely I ken in my ain hert some o' the risin' smoke o' the sacrifice.Eh! sic words as they are!
An' he was gaein' doon to the grave himsel', no half my age, as peacefu', though the road was sae rouch, as gin he had been gaein'
hame till 's father.'
'Sae he was,' returned Robert.
'Ay; but here am I lyin' upo' my bed, slippin' easy awa.An' there was he--'
The old man ceased.The sacred story was too sacred for speech.
Robert sat with the New Testament open before him on the bed.
'The mair the words o' Jesus come into me,' the doctor began again, 'the surer I am o' seein' my auld Brahmin frien', Robert.It's true I thought his religion not only began but ended inside him.It was a' a booin' doon afore and an aspirin' up into the bosom o' the infinite God.I dinna mean to say 'at he wasna honourable to them aboot him.And I never saw in him muckle o' that pride to the lave (rest) that belangs to the Brahmin.It was raither a stately kin'ness than that condescension which is the vice o' Christians.
But he had naething to do wi' them.The first comman'ment was a'
