“Well, John, my man, you’ve had a hard life of it.” “No harder than I could bear,” said John. “It’s a grand thing to be able to say that,” said my father. “Oh sir! for that matter, I would go through it all again, if it was _his_ will, and willingly. I have no will but his, sir.” “Well, John, I wish we could all say the same. When a man comes to that, the Lord lets him have what he wants. What do you want now, John?” “To depart and be with the Lord. It wouldn’t be true, sir, to say that I wasn’t weary. It seems to me, if it’s the Lord’s will, I’ve had enough of this life. Even if death be a long sleep, as some people say, till the judgment, I think I would rather sleep, for I’m very weary. Only there’s the old woman there! I don’t like leaving her.” “But you can trust God for her too, can’t you?” “It would be a poor thing if I couldn’t, sir.” “Were you ever hungry, John--dreadfully hungry, I mean?” “Never longer than I could bear,” he answered. “When you think it’s the will of God, hunger doesn’t get much hold of you, sir.” “You must excuse me, John, for asking so many questions. You know God better than I do, and I want my young man here to know how strong the will of God makes a man, old or young. He needn’t care about anything else, need he?” “There’s nothing else to care about, sir. If only the will of God be done, everything’s all right, you know. I do believe, sir, God cares more for me than my old woman herself does, and she’s been as good a wife to me as ever was. Young gentleman, you know who says that God numbers the very hairs of our heads? There’s not many of mine left to number,” he added with a faint smile, “but there’s plenty of yours. You mind the will of God, and he’ll look after you. That’s the way he divides the business of life.” I saw now that my father’s talk as we came, had been with a view to prepare me for what John Jamieson would say. I cannot pretend, however, to have understood the old man at the time, but his words have often come back to me since, and helped me through trials pretty severe, although, like the old man, I have never found any of them too hard to bear. “Have you no child to come and help your wife to wait upon you?” my father asked. “I have had ten, sir, but only three are left alive. There’ll be plenty to welcome me home when I go. One of the three’s in Canada, and can’t come. Another’s in Australia, and he can’t come. But Maggie’s not far off, and she’s got leave from her mistress to come for a week--only we don’t want her to come till I’m nearer my end. I should like her to see the last of her old father, for I shall be young again by the next time she sees me, please God, sir. He’s all in all--isn’t he, sir?” “True, John. If we have God, we have all things; for all things are his and we are his. But we mustn’t weary you too much. Thank you for your good advice.”