“Maister A’ body has a heap o’ the gawk in him yet, Cosmo,” replied his master. “In fac’ he’s scarce mair nor an infant yet, though he wull speyk as gien the haill universe o’ wisdom an’ knowledge war open til ’im! There’s no a word o’ the kin’ i’ the haill Bible, nor i’ the hert o’ man--nor i’ the hert o’ the Maker, do I, i’ the hert o’ me, believe it. Cosmo, can _ye_ believe ’at that wee bit foal o’ an ass ’at carriet the maister o’ ’s a’, alang yon hill-road frae Bethany to Jerus’lem, cam to sic an ill hin ’er en’ as to be forgotten by him he cairriet? No more can I believe that jist ’cause it carriet him it was ae hair better luiket efter nor ony ither bit assie foalt i’ the lan’ o’ Isr’el.” “The disciples micht hae min’t it til the cratur, an’ liukit efter ’t for him,” suggested Cosmo. His master looked pleased. “They could but work the will o’ him that made the ass,” he said, “an does the best for a’ thing an’ a’ body. Na, na, my son! gien I hae ony pooer to read the trowth o’ things, the life ’at’s gien is no taen; an’ whatever come o’ the cratur, the love it waukent in a human breist ’ill no more be lost than the objec’ o’ the same. That a thing can love an’ be loved--an’ that’s yer bonnie mearie, Cosmo--is jist a’ ane to sayin’ ’at it’s immortal, for God is love, an’ whatever partakes o’ the essence o’ God canna dee, but maun gang on livin’ till it please him to say haud, an’ that he’ll never say.” By this time the face of the man was glowing like an altar on which had descended the fire of the highest heaven. His confidence entered the heart of Cosmo, and when the master ceased, he turned, with a sigh of gladness and relief, to his work, and wept no more. The possible entrance of Linty to an enlarged existence, widened the whole heaven of his conscious being; the well-spring of personal life within him seemed to rush forth in mighty volume; and through that grief and its consolation, the boy made a great stride towards manhood.