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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Alec Forbes of Howglen"

But there's sic a thing as a human
election, as weel's a divine ane; an' ane's no the same's anither, ance
it's a chosen ane."
"Weel, I pity them 'at the Lord has no pity upo'," sighed the smith,
with a passing thought of his own fits of drinking.
"Gang ye and try him. He may hae pity upo' you--wha kens?" said Thomas,
as he followed Alec, whom he had already released, out of the shop.
"Ye see, Alec," he resumed in a low voice, when they were in the open
air--Curly going on before them, "it's time 'at ye was growin' a man,
and pittin' awa' childish things. Yer mither 'll be depen'in' upo' you,
or lang, to haud things gaein'; and ye ken gin ye negleck yer chance at
the school, yer time'll no come ower again. Man, ye sud try to do
something for conscience-sake. Hae ye learnt yer lessons for the morn,
noo?"
"No, Thomas. But I will. I'm jist gaein' to buy a pair o' rabbits to
Truffey; and syne I'll gang hame."
"There's a guid lad. Ye'll be a comfort till yer mither some day yet."
With these words, Thomas turned and left them.
There had been a growing, though it was still a vague sense, in Alec's
mind, that he was not doing well; and this rebuke of Thomas Crann
brought it full into the light of his own consciousness.


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