"Isna the warl' fu' o' bonnie things cheap?" Thomas went on. "The sun's
fine and het the day. And syne whan he's mair nor we can bide, there's
lots o' shaidows lyin' aboot upo' the face o' the warl'; though they
say there's some countries whaur they're scarce, and the shaidow o' a
great rock's thought something o' in a weary lan'? But we sudna think
less o' a thing 'cause there's plenty o' 't. We hae a heap o' the
gospel, but we dinna think the less o' 't for that. Because ye see it's
no whether shaidows be dear or no that we think muckle or little o'
them, but whether we be richt het and tired whan we win till ane o'
them. It's that 'at maks the differ."
Sorrow herself will reveal one day that she was only the beneficent
shadow of Joy.
Will Evil ever show herself the beneficent shadow of Good?
"Whaur got Robert Bruce that gran' Bible, Annie, do ye ken?" resumed
Thomas, after whitening his hypocrite in silence for a few moments.
"That's my Bible, Thomas. Auld Mr Cowie gae't to me whan he was lyin'
near-han' deith."
"Hm! hm! ay! ay! And hoo cam' 't that ye didna tak' it and pit it i'
yer ain kist?"
"Maister Bruce tuik it and laid it i' the room as sune's I brocht it
hame.
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