“To think, Isy, that here am I, a dull, selfish creature, so long desiring only for myself knowledge and influence, now at last grown able to feel in my heart all the way home, that I took every step, one after the other, only by the strength of God in me, caring for me as my own making father!—Ken ye what I’m trying to say, Isy, my dear?” “I canna be a’thegither certain I un’erstan’,” answered his wife; “but I’ll keep thinkin aboot it, and maybe I’ll come til’t!” “I can desire no more,” answered James, “for until the Lord lat ye see a thing, hoo can you or I or onybody see the thing that _he_ maun see first! And what is there for us to desire, but to see things as God sees them, and would hae us see them? I used to think the soutar a puir fule body whan he was sayin the vera things I’m tryin to say noo! I saw nae mair what he was efter than that puir collie there at my feet—maybe no half sae muckle, for wha can tell what he mayna be thinkin, wi’ that far awa luik o’ his!” “Div ye think, Jeames, that ever we’ll be able to see inside thae doggies, and ken what they’re thinkin?” “I wouldna won’er what we mayna come til; for ye ken Paul says, ‘A’ things are yours, and ye are Christ’s, and Christ is God’s!’ Wha can tell but the vera herts o’ the doggies may ae day lie bare and open to _oor_ herts, as to the hert o’ Him wi’ whom they and we hae to do! Eh, but the thouchts o’ a doggie maun be a won’erfu’ sicht! And syne to think o’ the thouchts o’ Christ aboot that doggie! We’ll ken them, I daurna weel doobt, some day! I’m surer aboot that nor aboot kennin the thouchts o’ the doggie himsel!” Another Sunday night, having come home through a terrible storm of thunder and lightning, he said to Isy— “I hae been feelin, a’ the w’y hame, as gien, afore lang, I micht hae to gie a wider testimony. The apostles and the first Christians, ye see, had to beir testimony to the fac’ that the man that was hangt and dee’d upo the cross, the same was up again oot o’ the grave, and gangin aboot the warl; noo I canna beir testimony to that, for I wasna at that time awaur o’ onything; but I micht weel be called upon to beir testimony to the fac’ that, whaur ance he lay deid and beeried, there he’s come alive at last—that is, i’ the sepulchre o’ my hert! For I hae seen him noo, and ken him noo—the houp o’ glory in my hert and my life! Whatever he said ance, that I believe for ever.” The talks James Blatherwick and the soutar had together, were now, according to Mr. Robertson, even wonderful. But it was chiefly the soutar that spoke, while James sat and listened in silence. On one occasion, however, James had spoken out freely, and indeed eloquently; and Mr. Robertson, whom the soutar accompanied to his inn that night, had said to him ere they parted— “Do you see any good and cogent reason, Mr. MacLear, why this man should not resume his pastoral office?”