"'I guddled in that burn when I was a boy,' he says; and I cud ha' grat. It was like a drink o' cauld water.... I aye likit rinnin' water. Mony a time I've sat by that window on a simmer's nicht and made masel' believe that I could hear Tweed. It ran in ma ears for thirty years, an' a body disna forget. There's a bit in the Bible about a river ... read it." Elizabeth lifted the Bible and looked at it rather hopelessly. "I'm afraid I don't know where to find it," she confessed. "Tuts, lassie, yer faither would ha' kent," said Mrs. Veitch. "There is a river," Elizabeth quoted from memory,--"there is a river the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God." "Ay! that's it." She lay quiet, as if satisfied. "Mother," said Kate. "Oh! Mother!" The sick woman turned to her daughter. "Ay, Kate. Ye've been a guid lassie to me, and noo ye'll gang to Maggie in Ameriky. The money is there, an' I can gang content. Ye wudna keep me Kate, when I've waited so lang? I'll gang as blythe doon to the River o' Death as I gaed fifty years syne to ma trystin', and Alec will meet me at the ither side as he met me then ... and John, ma kind son, will be waitin' for me, an' ma wee Hughie----" "And your Saviour, Mother," Kate reminded her anxiously. Mrs. Veitch turned on her pillow like a tired child. "I'll need a lang, lang rest, an' a lang drink o' the Water of Life." "Oh! Mother!" said Kate. "You're no' going to leave me." Elizabeth laid her hand on her arm. "Don't vex her, Kate. She's nearly through with this tough world." The doctor was heard at the door. "I'll go now, and Father will come down this evening. Oh! poor Kate, don't cry. It is so well with her." That night, between the hours of twelve and one, at the turning of the tide, the undaunted soul of the old country-woman forded the River, and who shall say that the trumpets did not sound for her on the other side! _CHAPTER XVII_ "He was the Interpreter to untrustful souls The weary feet he led into the cool Soft plains called Ease; he gave the faint to drink: Dull hearts he brought to the House Beautiful. The timorous knew his heartening on the brink Where the dark River rolls. He drew men from the town of Vanity, Past Demas' mine and Castle Doubting's towers, To the green hills where the wise shepherds be, And Zion's songs are crooned among the flowers." J.B. The winter days slipped past. Christmas came, bringing with it to Buff the usual frantic anticipations, and consequent flatness when it was borne in on him that he had not done so well in the way of presents and treats as he felt he deserved. It was a hard winter, and there was more than the usual hardships among the very poor. James Seton, toiling up and down the long stairs of the Gorbals every day of the week and preaching three times on the Sabbath, was sometimes very weary. Elizabeth, too, worked hard and laughed much, as was her way.