1REASUR ROOM COL. GEORGE WASHINGTON FLOWERS MEMORIAL COLLECTION DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY DURHAM, N. C. PRESENTED BY W. W. FLOWERS WEE DAYIE EV NORMAN MACLEOD, D. D., ONE OK Hi V'S CnAPLAINS AVTIIuR OF "THE OLD LIEUTENANT AND HIS SON," " THE EAilMCbT BTOl JFrotn i"b c ©fotttt$-jer*fctttt!) 5.onbon 3EMiiotr. EICHMOXD, V A : PRISBYTERIAN COMMITTEE Or PUBLICATION, 1861 WEE JDAV1E. GHAPTEB L "Wee Davie" was the only child of William Thorburn, blacksmith. He bad reached the age at which he could venture, with prudence and reflection, on a journey from one chair to another; his wits kept alive by maternal warnings of "take care, Davie; mind the lire, Davie."' When the journey was fety, and he looked over his shoulders with a crow of joy to his mother, lie was rewarded, in addition to the rewards of his own brave and adventurous spirit, by such a smile as equalled only his own, and by the well-merited approval of " i done. ]>;i\ ie ! : ' the mosl powerful and influential mem- ber' of ike household. Neither the British fleet, nor the French army, nor the Armstrong gun, had the power of doing what Davie did. They m well have tried to make a primrose grow or a lark e 4012 w i: e i> a v i e >r example, a wonderful stimulus to tther <: : rrival. , his have done, and was apt to neglect many opportunities, which off tm ' : ii : and Jeanie was easily put off by some plausible objection when she urged her husband to make mi additional hoi penny to keep the house. But "the bairn" became a new motive to exertion; and the thought of leaving him and Jeanie more comfortable, in case sicki laid the s/ or death took' him away, became like a new sinew to his powerful arm, as he wielded the hammer, and made it ring the music of hearty work on th< anvil. The meaning of benefit clu] and penny banks, was fully explained by "Wee Davie. Davie also exercised a remarkable influence on his father's political views and social habits. The smith had been fond of debates on political que,-, ; and no ' owl of di content than his could be hear -t « the powers that be/' the injustice done to the masses, or the misery which was occasioned by class legislation. He had also made up his mind not <" - : or contented, but only to endure life as a necessity laid upon him, until the required reforms in church and slate, at home and abroad, had b attained. But his wife, without uttering a, syllable on matters which she did not even pretend to understand ; WIEDAVII 5 by a series of acts oat of Parliament; by- reforms in household arrangements; by introducing good bills into her own House of Commons ; and by a charter, whose points were chiefly very commonplace ones, — h as a comfortable meal, a tidy home, i fireside, a polished gra. e all, a cheerful counte- nance and womanly love, — by the cd chan she had made her husband wonderfully fond of his home. He was. under ti . erv day too contented for a patriot, and too happy for a man in an ill-governed world. His old companions at last could not coax him out at night. He was lost as a member of one of the most philosophical clubs in the neighborhood. "His old pluck." they 'my s." The wife, it was alleged by the patriotic ba< . had "cowed" him, and driven all the spirit out of him. But "Wee Davie" • ■■ pleted this revol t shall tell you hoi One failing of William's had hitherto r Jeanie's sil d ' i smith had fori habi • he was marrie I. of 1 : in a fri . a pul It is true that he " what might 1 I a drunkard — " "never lost a d •k — " ' But, neverthel r Wilson 1 comfortable atm ith half- , and. to hin:. pleasant felloe - an . na- P34G12 6 WEE D1TII, panions, he sat round the fire, and the glass circulated ; and the gossip of the week was discussed ; and racy stories were told : and one or two songs sung, linked together by memories of old merry-meetings; and current joke- were repeated,, with humor, of the tyrannical influence which Borne would presume to exercise on "innocent, social enjoyment — " then would the smith's brawny chest expand, and his face beam, and his feelings become malleable, and his six- pences begin to melt, and flow out in generous sympathy into Peter Wilson's fozy hand, to be counted greedily beneath his sodden eyes. And so it was that the smith's wages were always lessened by Peter's gains. His wife had her fears — her horrid anticipations — but did not like to tell " even to" her husband anything so dreadful as what she, in her heart, dreaded. She took her own way, however, to win him to the house and to good, and gently insinuated wishes rather than expressed them. The smith, no doubt, she comforted herself by thinking, was only "merry," and never ill-tempered or unkind, — "yet at times — " "and then, what if—!" Yes, Jeanie, you are right ! The demon sneaks into the house by degrees, and at first may be kept out, and the door shut upon him; but let him only mice take possession, then he will k it, and shut the door against everything pure, lovely, and of good report, — barring it against thee and "Wee Davie," ay, and against One who is best of all, — and will fill the lior.se with sin and shame, with misery and despair ! But " Wee Davie," with his WEED&VIE. / arm of might, drove the demon out. It happened thus:— ■ One evening when tho smith returned home so thai "you could know it on liin;.' 1 Davie toddled forward; and his father, lifting him up, made him stand on his knee. The child began to play with the locks of the Samson, to pat him on the cheeky and to repeat with glee the name of "dad-a." The smith gazed on him intently, and with a peculiar look of love, mingled with sadness. "Isn't he a bonnie bairn?" asked Jeanie, as she looked over her husband's shoulder at the child, nodding and smiling to him. The smith spoke not a word, but gazed intently upon his boy, •while some sudden emotion, was strongly working in ountenanoe. "It's done!" heat last, said, as he put his. child n. "What's wrang! what's wrang!" exclaimed his wife as she stood before him, and put her hands round his shoulders, bending down until her face was close to his. Everything is wrang. Je " Willy, what is't ? are ye no weel? — tell me what's wV you? — oh, tell me!" she exclaimed, in nt alarm. a' richt noo," he said, rising up and seizing child. He lifted him to his breast, and kis him. Then looking up in . he said. •' ! l l Jeanie. Thank God, L am a iY< e man l" 8 Wl'8 DAT'Ili His wife felt awed; she knew not ho v.-. " Sit do ■ I out his handker- chief, and wiped away a tear from his eye, " and I'll tell you ft, 5 aboot it." Jennie Bat on a stool at his feet, with Davie on her knee. The .smith seized the child's little hand in one of his own, and with the other took his wife's., " I hav'na been what ye niay ea' a drunkard," he said, slowly, and like a man abashed, "but I hae been often as I shouldna hae been, and as, wi' God's help, I never, never will be again! " ' ' Oh ! " exclaimed Jeanie. "Let me speak," said William; "to think,. Jeanie, — " here he struggled as if something was choking him, — "to think that for whiskey I might beggar you and Wee Davie; tak the elaes aflf your back,: drr to the work-house; break your heart; and ruin my bonnie bairn, that loves me sue weel ; ay, ruin him in saul and body, for time and for eternity ! God forgie me! I canna stand the thocht o't, let alane the reality!" The strong man rose, and little accustomed as he was to show his feelings, he kissed his wife and child. " It's clone, it's clone ! " he said ; "as I'm a leevan man, it's done ! But clinna greet, Jeanie. Thank God for you and Davie, my ben ings." " Exc< pt Himsel' ! " said Jeanie, as she hung on her husband's neck. . "And noo, woman," replied the smith, " nae WEE DAVIE mair about it; it's done. Gie Wee Davie a piece, and get the .supper ready." "Wee Davie" was also a great promoter of social intercourse; an unconscious link between man ami man; and a great practical "unionist." He healed breaches, reconciled differences, and was a peacemaker between kinsfolk and neighbors. For example: Jeanie's parents were rather opposed to her marriage with the smith. Some said it was . because they be- longed to the rural aristocracy of country farmers. They regretted, therefore, it was alleged — though their regret' ; pressed only to old friends— the day when the lame condition of one of their horses had brought Thorburn to visit their stable, and ulti- mately their hou Thorburn, no doubt, was admitted to be a sensible, well-to-do man ; but then he was, at best, but a common smith ; and Jeanie good looking, and "by ordinary," with expecta- tion^, too, of some, "tocher." Her mother, with the introduction, "tho'Isayifc, that shouldna say it," was fond of enlarging on Jeanie's excellences, and commenting on the poor smith, with pauses of silence, and ions of hope "that she might be mis- taken/" and "that it was ill to ken a body's w.v all of whi.-h remarks, from their very mystery, were more ciatory than any dir< . But □ " Wee Davie" v iuple :• and due to a — not ;■ r »f tl to thi ir daughter, whom they sin- I3 loved — to come and visit her. Her mother had 10 WEED A TIE. been with Jeanie at an earlier period; and the house was so clean, and Thorburn bo intelligent, and the child pronounced to be so like old David Armstrong, Jeanie's father, especially about the forehead, that the two families, as the smith remarked, were evidently being welded, so that a few more gentle hammerings would make them one. "Wee Davie," as he grew up, became the fire of love which heated the hearts of good metal so as to enable favorable circumstances to give the necessary finishing stroke which would permanently unite them. These circumstances were constantly occurring; until at last, Armstrong called every market-day to see his daughter and little grand-son. The old man played with the boy, (who was his only grand-son,) and took him on his knee, and put a "sweetie" into his mouth, and evidently felt as if he himself was repro- duced and lived again in the child. This led to closer intercourse, until David Armstrong admitted that William Thorburn was one of the most sensible men he knew ; and that he would not only back him against any of his acquaintances for a knowledge of a good horse, but for wonderful information as to the state of the country generally, especially of the landed interest ; and for sound views on the high rent of land. Mrs. Armstrong finally admitted that Jeanie was not so far mistaken in her choice of a husband. The good woman always assumed that the sagacity of the family was derived from her own side of the house. WEEDATIE. 11 But whatever doubts still lingered in their minds as to the wisdom of their daughter's marriage, were all dispelled by one look of "Wee Davie." "I'm just real proud about that braw bairn o' Jeanie's," she used to say to her husband; remark- ing one da} , with a chuckling laugh and smile, " d'ye no think yersel, gudeman, that Wee Davie has a look o' auld Davie V " "Maybe, maybe," replied old David; ".but I aye think he's our ain bairn we lost thirty years syne." "That has been in my ain mind," said his wife, with a sigh ; "but I never liked to say it." Then, after a moments silence, she added, with a smile, " but he's no the waur o' being like baith." Again : — there lived in the same common pi and opposite to William Thorbuni's door, an old sol- dier, a pensioner. He was a bachelor, and by no means disposed to hold intercourse with his neighbors. He greatly disliked the noise of children, and main- tained ^hat " an hour's drill every day would alone make them tolerable." "Obedience to authority, that's the rule ; right about, march! That's the only exorcise for them," the Corporal would say to some father of a numerous family in the "close," as he flourished his stick with a smile rather than a growl. Jeanie pronounced him to be "a selfish body." Thorbura had more than once tried to cultivate ac- quaintance with him, as they were constantly brought into outward contact : but th^ Corporal was a Tory, and more than suspected the smith of holding Radical 12 WEED A TIE. sentiments. To defend things as they were was a point of honor with the pensioner — a religion. Be- sides, any opposition to tho government seemed a slight upon the army, and, therefore upon himself. Thorburn at last avoided him, and pronounced him to be proud and ignorant. But one day " Wee Davie" found his way into the Corporal's house, and putting his hands on his knees as he was reading the newspa- per near the window, looked up to his face. The old soldier was arrested by the beauty of the child, and took him on his knee. To his surprise, Davie did not scream : and when his mother soon followed in search of her boy, and made many apologies for his impudence, as she called it, the. Corporal maintained that he was a jewel, a perfect gentleman, and dubbed him "the Captain." Next day, tapping at Thor- burn's door, the Corporal gracefully presented toys in the shape of a small sword and drum for his young hero. That same night he smoked his pipe at the smith's fireside, and told such stories of his battles as tired the smith's enthusiasm, called forth his praises, and, what was more substantial, procured a most comfortable tea, which clinched their friendly inter- course. He and "the Captain" became constant associates, and many a loud laugh might be heard from the Corporal's room as he played with the boy, and educated his genius. "He makes me young again, docs the Captain I " tho Corporal often remarked to the mother. Mrs. Ferguson, another neighbor, was also drawn WEE DAVIE. 13 into the same friendly net by Wee Davie. She was a fussy, gossiping woman, noisy and dis bble. Jeanic avoided her, and boasted indeed that it was her rule to " keep hersel to hersel," instead of giving away some of her good self to her neighbor, and thus taking some of her neighbor's bad self out of her. But her youngest child became seriously ill, and Jeanie thought, "if Davie were ill I would like a neighbor to speir for him." So she went up stairs to visit Mrs. Fergusson, ''begged pardon," but " wished to know how Mary was." Mrs. Fergusson, bowed down with sorrow, thanked her, and bid her "come ben." Jeanie did so, and spoke kindly to the child — told her mother, moreover, what pleasure it would give her to nurse her baby occasionally, and invited the younger children to come down to her house and play with Wee Davie, so as to keep the sick one quiet. She helped, also, to cook some nour- ishing drinks, and got nice milk from her father for Mary, often excusing herself for apparent "meddling" by saying, " when ane has a bairn o 5 their ain, they canna but feci for other folk's bairns." Mrs. Fer- gusson 's heart became subdued, softened, and frisndly. "We took it as extraordinar' kind," she more than once remarked, " in Mrs. Thorburn I ■ has done. It is a blessing to have sic a neighbor." But it was Wee Davie who was the peacemaker ! The street in which the smith lived was as uninter- esting as any could be. A description of its outs and ins would have made a "social science" meeting 14 WEE DAVIE. shudder. Beauty, or even neatness, it had not. Every "close" 'or "entry" in it looked like a sepulchre. The back courts were a huddled confusion of outhouses ; strings of linens drying ; stray dogs searching for food ; hens and pigeons similarly em- ployed with more apparent success and satisfaction: lean cats creeping about; crowds of children, laugh- ing, shouting, and muddy to the eyes, acting with intense glee the great dramas of life, marriages, bat- tles, deaths and burials, with castle-building, extensive farming, and various commercial operations; but everywhere smoke, mud, moisture, and an utterly uncomfortable look. And so long as we, in Scotland, have a western ocean to afford an unlimited supply of water ; and western mountains to condense it as it passes in the blue air over their summits ; and western winds to waft it to our cities ; and so long as it will pour down, and be welcomed by smoke above, and earth below, we shall find it difficult to be " neat and tidy about the doors, " or to transport the cleanliness of England into our streets and lanes. But, in spite of all this, how many cheerful homes, with bright fires and nice furniture, inhabited by intelligent, sober, happy men and women, with healthy, lively children, are everywhere to be found in those very streets, which seem to the eye of those who have never pene- trated further than their outside, to be "dreadful places." A happier home could hardly be found than that of WEE DAVIE, 15 William Thorburn, as he gat at the fireside, after returning from his work, reading his newspaper, or some book of weightier literature, selected by Jeanie from the well-filled shelves in the little back parlor, •while Jeanie herself was sewing opposite to him. As it often happened, both were absorbed in the rays of that bright light, " Wee Davie," which tilled their dwelling, and the whole world, to their eyes; or both listened to the grand concert of his happy voice, w 7 hich mingled with their busy work and silent thoughts, giving harmony to all. ITow much was done for his sake! He was the most sensible, efficient, and thoroughly philosophical teacher of household economy, and of social science in all its departments who could enter a working man's dwelling ! CHAPTER IT. My heart is sore as I write it; but Wee Davie got ill. He began to refuse his food, and nothing "would please him. He became pevish and cross, so that he would hardly go to his father, except to kiss him with- tearful cheeks, and. then to stretch out his hands with a cry for his mother. His mother nursed him on her knee, rocked him, walked with him, sang to him her own household lullabies ; put him to bed, lifted him up, laid him down, and " fought" with him day and night, caring for neither food nor sleep, but only for her child's ease and comfort. What lessons of self-sacrificing love was she thus unconsciously taught by her little sufferer! Such lessons, indeed, as earth alone can afford — and so far it is a glorious school ; for there are no sickbeds to watch, no sufferers to soothe, nor mourners to comfort, among the many mansions of our .Father's house. The physician, who was at last called in, pronounced it " a bad case — a rery serious case." I forget the specific nature of the illness. The idea of danger to Davie, had never entered the minds of his parents. The clay on which William realised it, he was, as his Wll CAVIl. fellow-workmen expressed it, "clean stupid" They saw him make mistakes ho had never made before, and knew it could not be from "drink," yet could not guess the cause. "I maun gang hame ! " was his only explanation, when, at throe o'clock, lie put on his ( I stalked out of the smithy, like one utterly indifferent as to what the consequences might be to ploughs or harrows, wheels or horse-shoes. Taking an old fellow-workman aside, he whispered to him, "for auld friendship sake, Tarn, tak charge this day o' my wark." He said no more. " What ails Willy?" asked his fellow-workmen in vain, as they all paused for a moment at their work and looked perplexed. It was on the afternoon of the next day that the minister called. It must here be confessed that William was a rare attender of any church The fact . he had been hitherto rather sceptical in his ten- dencies : not that his doubts had ever assumed a tematic form, or were ever expressed in any determined or dogmatic manner; but he had read Tom Paine, i iaied the political rights of man with rebellion against old authoritits, all of whom he thought had : nnically denied them ; and he had imbibed the i at the old '-'philosophical" club, thn' especially those of the Established Church, were the enemies of all ] . had no sympathy \ working <•!;;- aV es t<> tie- aristocraej . preached as a me; q and only for their pay, ai 13 \TEE BAVII, moreover, a large share of hypocrisy and humbug in them. The visit of Dr. ?-i* Gavin was, therefore, very unexpeel When the Dr. entered the hous \ aiter a courteous request to be allowed to do so, — as it was always his principle that the poorest man was entitled to the same respect as the man of rank or riches, — he said, " I have just heard from some of your neighbors, whom I have been visiting, that your child is seriously unwell, and I thought you w T ould excuse my calling upon you to inquire for him." William made him welcome, and begged him to be seated. The call was specially acceptable to Jeanie. Old David, I should have mentioned, was an elder in a most worthy dissenting congregation, and his strong religious convictions and church views, formed in his mind a chief objection to the marriage of his daughter with a man who was not, as he said, even a member of any kirk. Jeanie had often wished her husband to be more decided in what she herself cordially ac- knowledged to be a duty, and felt to be a comfort and a privilege. The visit of the Dr., whose character was well known and much estecfhied, wae, therefore, peculiarly welcome to her. In a little while the Dr. was standing beside the cot of Wee Davie, who was asleep, and gently touch- ing the little sui hand, he said in a quiet voice, to the Smith, "my friend, I sincerely fool for you] I am myself a father, and have suffered losses in my W L E D A M E i 10 family." At the word losses, William winced, and moved from his place as if he felt uneasy. The 'Dr. quickly perceived it. and said, "I do not, of course, mean to express so rash and unkind an opinion as that jou are to lose this very beautiful and interesting l.oy, lout only to assure you how I am enabled, from expe- rience, to understand your anxiety, and to sympathise with you and your wife." And noiselessly walking to the arm-chair near the fire, he there sat down, while William and Jeanie sat near him. After hearing with patience and attention the account from Jeanie of the beginning and progress of the child's disease, he said, " whatever happens, it is a comfort to know that our Father is acquainted with all you Buffer, all you fear, and all you wish; and that Jesus Christ, our Brother, has a fellow-feeling with us in all our infirmities and trials/' ' The Deity must know all," said William, with a softened voice ; "he is infinitely great and incompre- hensible." "Yes," replied the minister; "God is so great that he can attend to our smallest concerns; yet nor so incomprehensible hut that a father's heart can truly r Him, so as at Least to find him through his Son. Oh! what a comfort and strength the thought is U> all men," continued th<* Dr., "and ought to be to working men. and to you paren eeiaUy with your dear child in sickness, that If,- who - a sparrow tali, smitten by winter's cold, and WEE 5AVIE. the wild beasts, is acquainted with us. with our most secret affair.-, 50 that even the hairs of our heads are numbered ; That He who is the Father, almighty Maker of the heavens and t 3 the thii which v : that He has in us, i tally, an interest which is incomprehen use His love to 1 ipth, for He so hived us that He spared noi own Son, but gave Him up to death for us all ! It is this God who considers each of us, and weighs all His dealings towards us with a carefulness as great as if we alone existed in His universe, so that, as a father pitieth his children, He pitieth us, knowing our frames, and remembering that we are dust." William bent his head, and was silent ; while Jeanie listened with her whole soul. "It is not easy, min- ister," he at last said, " for hard -wrought and tired men to believe that."' "Nor for any man," replied the Dr. "I find it very difficult to believe it myself as a real thing, yet I know it to be true : and," he continued in a low and aate voice, " perhaps we never could have known it, or believed it at all, unless God had tai it to us by the life of His own Son, who came to re- a Father. But as I see Him taking up little children into His lov'm . when others would k them away who did not understand what perfect love U, and as 1 Bee in such doings how love cannot but come down and meet the wants of its smallest and WEE DAVIE. 21 weakest object— when I see all this love in the giving up of His life for . oh ! ii is I I learn in what consists the real • 4 whose name is Love.''' "I believe wi' my heart,"' remarked the smith, "that no man ever loved as Jos us Christ did." "But," said the Dr., "I see in this love of Oh more than the love of a good man merely; ! I vealed in it the loving tenderness towards us and ours of that God whom no eye hath Been, or can see, but whom the eve of the spirit, when taught of God, can perceive; for, as Jesus said, 'he who seeth rue, seeth the Father ! ' " "I believe a" ye say, Dr.," said Jeanie, meekly, "/wadna like to keep my bairn frae Him, nor to uinst his will, for ; ficht; but, () sir, I hope, I hope, He will lift him up. and help us no He did many di ; ones while on earth, by spar- ing ane that' like a pairt o' our ain hear! " I hope," said the minister, " God will s] boy. But you must sincerely ask ETii o, and commit y out- child into hi- hinds witl fear, and acquiesce in His • boy as Ho pi " That is hardL" remarked William! !" mildl; Dr. •■ What would er than acquiece in the will of Gel*." Would trust your own heart, for instance, mon 22 WEE DAVIE, heart of God? Or, tell me, would you rather have your child's fate decided by any other on earth than by yourself? " ' ' No, for I know how T love the boy, " was Jeanie's reply. " But God loves him much more than you do ; for he belongs to God, and was made by Him and for Him." "I ken I am a waik woman, Dr., but I frankly say that I canna, no, I canna thole the thocht o' part- ing wi' bin ; " said Jeanie, clasping her hands tightly. " May God spare him to you, my friends/' replied the minister, "if it be for your good and his. But,'' he added, "there are worse, things than death." This remark, made in almost an uncler-voice, was followed by silence for a few moments. The minister's - were cast down as if in meditation or prayer. "Death is hard enough," said the smith. "But hard chiefly as a sign of something worse," continued the Dr. " Pardon me for asking you such questions as these : What if your child grew up an enemy to you ? What if he never returned your love ? What if he never would trust you ? What if he never would speak to you? What if he always diso- beyed you ? Would not this bring down your gray hairs with sorrow to the grave?" " Eh ! sir," said Jeanie, " that would be waur than death ! " " But excuse me Dr., for just remarking," inter- WEE DAVIE 23 rupted William, " that I never knew any child with a good parent, who would so act. I really don't think it possible that our ain Wee Davie, even with our poor bringing up, would ever come to thai. It would be so unnatural." 61 God alone knows how that might be, Thorburn," said the Dr. "But there are many things more un- natural and dreadful even than that in this world. Listen to me kindly ; for I sincerely thank you for having allowed one who is a stranger to speak so frankly to you, and for having heard me with such considerate patience." " Oh, gang on, gang on, sir, I like to hear you," said Jeannic. " Certainly," said the smith. " Well, theii," said the minister, " I have no wish even to appear to find any fault with you at such a time. I am more disposed, believe me, to weep with you in your sorrow than to search your heart or life for sin. But I feel at such solemn times as these, most solemn to you and to your wife, that the voice of a Father is speaking to you in the rod, and it ought- to be heard ; that His hand is ministering discipline to you, and that you ought to give Him reverence, and be in subjection to the Father of our spirits that you may live. In order, therefore, that you may receive more strength * nd comfort in the end, let me beseech of you to consider candidly, after I leave you, whether you have perhaps not been acting towards your Father 24 WEE DAVIE. in heaven in that very way which, did your child grow up and act towards yon, would be reckoned by you both as a sorrow worse than death?" "How could that be?" asked Jeannic, with a timid and inquiring look. " You may discover how, my friends, if you hon- estly ask yourselves, Whether you. have loved God your Father who has so loved you ? Has there been cordial friendship, or the reverse, towards Him ? Confi- dence, or distrust ? Disobedience, or rebellion ? Com- munion in frank, believing, and affectionate prayer, or distant silence ? I do not wish any reply to such questions now ; but I desire you and myself, as loving fathers of our children, to ask whether we have acted towards the best and most loving of Fathers, as we wish our children to feel and act towards ourselves ?" The Dr. paused for a moment. Jeannie shook her head slowly, and the smith stared with her at the fire. " By the grace of God," said Jeannie, in a whis- per, " I hope I have." " I hope so too," replied the minister, " but it does not come naturally to us." " It's a fact," ejaculated the smith, thrusting his hands vehemently into his pockets ; " it does not come naturally, in whatever way it comes, and yet it's des* perate unnatural the want o t." "Yes, Thorburn;" replied the Dr., "it is very dreadful, but yet we have all Binned, and this is our WEEDAVIE. 25 sin of sins, that we have not known nor loved our Father, but have been forgetful of Him, strange, shy- to him; we have, every one of us, been cold, heart- less, prodigal, disobedient children ! " Another short pause, and he then spoke on in the same quiet and loving voice : ' ' but whatever we are or have been, let us hope in God through- Jesus Christ,, or we perish ! Every sinner is righteously doomed, but no man is doomed to be a sinner God is our Father still, for He is, in Christ, reconciling the world to Himself, not imputing unto men their tres- passes ; and just as you both have nourished and cherished your dear boy, and have been loving him when he knew it not, nor could understand that great love in your hearts, which, sure am I, will never grow cold but in the grave, so has it been with God toward us. Open your hearts to His love, as you would open your eyes to .the light which has been ever shining. Believe it as the grand reality, as you would have your boy open his heart to and believe in your own love, when he wakens from his sleep. Your love, as I have said, is deep, real to your boy, irre- spective of his knowledge or return of it. But what is this to the love of God ! ' Herein is love, not tha^ we loved God, but that he loved us, and gave his Son to be a propitiation for our sins.' Let us, my friends, never rest till we are enabled in some degree to see and to appreciate such marvellous goodness, and to 26 WEB DAVIE. say, 'we have known and believed the love which God has to us.'" " Dr. M'Gavin," said William, " you have spoken to me as no man ever did before, and you will believe me, I am sure, when I say that I respect you and myself too much to flatter you. But there is surely a meaning in my love to that boy which I never saw before ! It begins to glimmer on me." " Thank God if it does! But I do not speak to you, and this you must give me credit for, as if it were my profession only; I speak to you as a man, a father and a brother, wishing you to share the good which God has given to me, and wishes you and all men to share. So I repeat it, that if we would only cherish towards God that simple confidence and hearty love — and seek to enjoy with Him that frank, cheer- ful communion which we wish our children to possess in relation to ourselves, we, would experience a true regeneration, the important change from an estranged heart to a child's love." "That would, indeed, be a Christianity worth having," said William. "It would be," continued the Dr., "to share Christ's life ; for what was the whole life of Jesus Christ, but a life of this blessed, confiding, obedient, child-like sonship ? Oh, that we would learn of Him, and grow up in likeness to Him ! But this ignorance of God is itself death. For if knowledge be life, spiritual ignorance is death. My good friends, I have WEE DAVI E . 27 boen led to give 3-011 a regular sermon ! " said the Dr., smiling; " but I really cannot help it. To use com- mon, everyday language, I think our treatment of God has been shameful, unjust, and disgraceful on the part of men with reason, conscience, and heart- I do not express myself half so strongly as I feel. I am ashamed and disgusted with myself, and all the members of the human family, for what we feel, and feel not, to such a Father. If it were not for what the one elder Brother was and did, the whole family would have been disgraced and ruined most righte- ously. But His is the name, and there is no % other whereby we can be saved ! " 'Dr.," said William, with a trembling voice "the mind is dark, and the heart is hard!" "The Spirit of God who is given with Christ can enlighten and soften both, my brother." " Thank ye, thank ye from my heart." replied the smith ; "I confess I have been very careless in going to the church, but " • We may talk of that again, if you allow me to return to-morrow. Yet," said the Dr., pointing to the child, "God in His mercy never leaves Himself without a witness. Look at your child, and listen to your own heart, and remember all I have said, and you will perhaps discover that though yon tried it you could not fly fn.ni the word of the Lord, should you < v-n bave fled from the Bible. A Father's voice by a child has been preaching to you. Yes, Thorburn ! 28 W E E D A V I F. . when, in love, God gave you that child, He sent an eloquent missionary to your house to preach the gospel of what our Father is to us, and what we, as children, ought to be to Him. Only listen to that sermon, and you will soon be prepared to listen to others." .The Dr. rose to depart. Before doing so, he asked permission to pray, which was cheerfully .granted. Wishing to strengthen the faith, in prayer, of those sufferers, he first said, " if God cannot hear and answer prayer, He is not all-perfect and supreme ; if He will not, He is not our Father. But, blessed be His name, His own Son, who knew Him perfectly, prayed Himself, and was heard in that He prayed. He heard, too, every true prayer addressed to Him- self; while lie has, in His kindness, furnished us with an argument for prayer, the truth and beauty of which we parents can, of all men, most appreciate: 'Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find ; knock, and it shall be opened unto you : for every one that asketh, receiveth ; and he that seeketh, findeth ; and to him that knocketh, it shall be opened. Or,- what man is there of you, whom, if his son ask bread, will he give a stone? Or, if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent? If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which' is in heaven give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him ! ' " The Dr. then poured forth a simple, loving, and most sympathising prayer, in which he made himself WEl DAVIE. 29 one with his fellow-worshippers, and expressed to a common Father, the anguish and the hopes of the hearts around him ~\\ hen it ended, he went to the cot, and looked at the sleeping child, touched hi s white hand, and said, "God bless you little one! May this sleep be for health." "It's the first sleep," said Jeanie. " he has had for a lang time. It may be a turn in his complaint." The minister then shook them both warmly by the hand, and gazed'on them with a world of interest in his eyes, asking them only to consider kindly what he had said. The silence which ensued for a few minutes after his absence, as William and Jeanie returned from the door and stood beside the bed, was broken by the smith observing, " I am glad that man came to our house, Jeanie. Yon was indeed preaching that a man can understand and canna forget. It was Wee Davie did it." " That** true," said Jeanie ; ." thank God for't ! " And after gazing on the sleeping child, she added, "Is he no bonnie? I dinna' wunnar that sic a bairn ould bring guid to the house." That nighi William had thoughts in his heart which burned with a redder glow than the coals upon the !iy fire ! CHAPTER III. It was a beautiful morning in spring, with blue sky, living air, springing grass, and singing birds ; but William Thorburn had not left his house, and the door was shut. Mrs. Fergusson trod the wooden stair that led to the floor above with slow and cautious step: and as she met her boy jnnning down whistling, she said, "what d'ye mean, Jamie, wi' that noise? Do ye no ken Wee Davie is dead ? Ye should hae mair feeling, laddie ! " The Corporal, whose door was half-open, crept out, and in an under-breath beckoned Mrs. Fergusson to speak to him. " Do you know how they are?" he asked, in a low voice. "No," she replied, 'shaking her head. "I sat up wi' Mrs. Thorburn half the night, and left Davie sleeping, and never thocht it would come to this. My heart is sair for them. But since it happened the door has been barred, and no one has been in. I somehow dinna like to intrude, for nae doot they will be in an awfu' way aboot that bairn." "I don't wonder, — I don't wonder!" remarked the Corporal, meditatively; I did not believe I could (30) WEE DAVIE. ,'i| feel as T do I don't understand it. Here am I, who have seen men killed by my side ; — who have seen a few shots cut down almost half our company : and — " " Is it possible ! " interposed Mrs. Fergusson. ' after." "Thank you, Mr. Armstrong, for the * said Dr. M'Gavin. Then looking to the bed, he remarl "Oh, if we were only simple, true and loving, little children, would we not, like that dear one, enter the kingdom of heaven, and know and love all who were in it, or on their way to i " I'm glad 1 have met you, sir," 1 the old Elder. " It does ane's heart good to meet a who has been a stranger. But if il hadna been for his death, we might never have met. Isna that qu< God's ways are no our wa\ "' God brings life to our hearts out of death," replied the Dr., "and in many ways does lie ordain pr from babes and sucklings, whether living or di And thus a quiet chat, full of genial Christian fulness, was kept up fo$ a time round the ' There was light in that dw< ion, for there was love — love intensified by sorrow . last rays of evening become more glorious from the very clouds that gather round the setting sun. "With your p in, " I •■ 38 WEE DAVIE. short prayer before I go." He selected the 23d. His only remark, as he closed the Bible, was, " The good Shepherd has been pleased to take this dear lamb into His fold, never more to leave it." "And may the lamb be the means of making the auld .sheep to follow !" added the Elder. When the prayer was over, Jeanie, who had hardly spoken a word, said, without looking at the Dr., " sir ! God didna hear our prayer for my bairn." " Dinna speak that way, Jeanie, woman!" said her mother, softly, yet firmly. ' ' I canna help it, mither ; I maun get oot my thochts that are burning at my heart. The minister maun forgie me," replied Jeanie. "Surely, Mrs. Thorburn," said the Dr.; "audit would.be a great satisfaction to me were I able, from what God has taught myself in His Word, and from my own experience of sorrow, to solve any difficulty, or help you to acquiesce in God's dealings with you ; not because you must, but because you ought to sub- mit; and that again, not because God has power, and therefore does what He pleases, but because He is love, and therefore pleases always to do what is right." "But, Oh, he didna hear our prayer: that's my burthen. But we were maybe wraug in asking what was against His will." " He did not answer you in the way, perhaps, in which 'you expected, Mrs. Thorburn ; yet, depend WEE DAVIE. 39 upon it, every true prayer is heard and answered by Him. But He is too good, too wise, too loving, to give us always literally what Ave ask ; if so, He would often be very cruel, and that He can never be ! Son would not give your child a serpent, if in his ignoraj he asked one, mistaking it for a fish ? nor would you give him a stone for bread ?" Jennie was silent. "When Nathan, the Lord's prophet, telt King David that his child must die," said the Elder, "yet nevertheless David even then, when it seemed almost rebellion, prayed to the Lord to spare his life, and I dinna doot that his Father in heaven was pleased wi' his freedom and faith. He couldna but tak kindly such confidence frae his distressed servant." "I am sure/' said the Dr., " we cannot trust Him too much, or open our human hearts to Mini too freely. But let us "always remember, that when God refuses what we ask, lie gives as something else far beetter, yea, and does far more than we can ask or think. So it may be thus with regard to your dead child. If Me has taken him away, can you, for example, tell the good He has bestowed thereby himself or others, or the evil and misery which !!«• has thereby prevented? Oh, how many parents would give worlds that their children had died in infancy ! ' " We are ignorant creatures!" exclaimed William. ** And consider further, Mrs. Thorburn," said the 40 WEE DAVIE. Dr., "how the Apostle Paul prayed the Lord thrice to hare a thorn in the flesh — a w- from Satan — removed. But the Lord did not hear even his prayer in his way, but answered it, nevertheless, in another and better way, when lie said, ' My grace is sufficient for thee, for my strength is perfected in weakness.'''' "True, minister," said the Elder, "nor did He ever say, ' Seek ye my face in vain.' " " And as regards your dear child, Mrs. Thorburn," continued the Dr., touching her arm, and speaking with great earnestness, "I believe sorrow's crown "of sorrow to a Christian parent, and the^heaviest he or she can endure on earth, is that of seeing a child, dearer than their own life, living and dying in wick- edness ! What was David s sorrow for his dead babe, when compared with that wail of bitter agony for his wicked son, ' Would God I had died for thee, Absalom, my son, my son !' God has saved yon from that agony. He has done so by taking your child to Bimself. Your precious jewel is not lost, but is in God's treasury, where no thief can break through and steal: that is surely something." " Something ! ' exclaimed the smith ; " it is surely, after all, everything. iVnd yet " " And yet," said Jeanie, as if interpreting the feeling of her husband, " wi' a' these thochts about our wee bairn, he's an aufu' blank. Ilka thing in the world seems different. " WEE DAVIE. 41 "I'm just thinking, Jeani " said her mother, "that it's a comfort ye < ■■. : on j). for therVspuir Mrs, Blair (John Blair a blin ye ken) when she lost her callant, May waft a y< she cam to me in an awfu' \ it, and that what vexed her sae muckle was, that b! had seen his wee face, and could only touch han'le him, and hear him greet, but never get a look o him. ' "Puir body," remarked Jeanie, "it was a sair misfortun , for ony mither that! Ilka ane has their ain burden to carry. But, minister, let me speir at you, sir: Will I never see my bairn again ? and if I him, will I no ken him?" " You might as well ask me whether you cou: and know your child if he had gone to a for. country instead of to heaven," replied the Dr. "A for Christian love, if we did Dot know our belo friends in heaveD ! But such ignor in that home of light and love.''' "It wadna be rational to think go," remarked Wil- liam. "And yet, Dr.," he continued, '• for just saying, though I would ral than speak, that the knowledge of the lost, if such km i there can be, must be terrible." •• ■ kno* not how that will be." replied the I>r., ''though 1 have my own view* on it. our iruonmee of any person being; .aid be 42 W BE IU V 1 E , dearly purchased by our ignorance of any person being saved ? ' " I did not think of that.' 1 ' said the smith. "But," continued Jeanie, with quiet earnestness, "will our bairn aye be a bairn, Dr.? Oh, I hope BO ?» " Dinna try, Jeanie dear," said David, "to be wise aboon what is written." The Dr. smiled, and asked, — " If your child had lived, think you, would you have rejoiced had he always continued to be a child, and never grown or advanced? and are you a loss or a gain to your father and mother, because you are grown in mind and knowledge since you were an infant ? ' "I never thocht o' that either," said Jeanie, thought- fully. " Be assured," continued the minister, " there will be no such imperfect and incomplete beings there as infants in intellect and in sense for ever. All will be perfect and complete, according to the plan of God, who made us for fellowship with Himself and with all His blissful family. Your darling has gone to a noble school, and will be taught and trained there for im_ mortality, by Him who was Himself a child, who spoke as a child, reasoned as a child, and as a child 'grew in wisdom and in stature ;' and who also. sym- pathised with a mother's love and a mother's sorrow. You too, parents, if you believe in Christ, and hold fast your confidence in Him ,• and become to Him as W E E DAT] little children, will be made fit to enter the same society; and though you and your boy, th< never, perhaps, forgetting your old relationship on earth, will be fit companions for one another, for ever and for ever. Depend upon it, you will both know and love each other there better than you ever could possibly have done here." " My wee pet/' murmured Jeanic, as the tears began to flow from a softened, because happier, heart. William hid his face in his hands. After a while, he broke silence, and said, " These thoughts of heaven are new to me. But common sen-'' fill- me maun be true. Heaven does not seem to me noo to be the same place it used to be. My Loss is not so eom- ♦ plete as I once thought it was. Neither we nor our baun have lived in vain." " Surely not," said the Dr.; '"Bettor to have loved and lost, Than never to have loved at all !' You have contributed one citizen to the heaT Jerusalem: one member to the family abov< happy spirit to add his voice to the anthem b throne of God.'* Cc Lord, help our unbelief P* said Mr. Armstroi "forthemair I think o' the things which 1 the mair they seem to me own "The disciples, when thej w Christ after His 44 WEE DAVIE. resurrection," said the "did not believe frou; "We think owre muckle o' our aim folk, Dr., and owre little o' liim,'' remarked the Elder. "But it's imfort that lie's kent and loved. as He ought to be by them in heaven. I thank Him, .alang wi' them that's awa\ for all ile is and gies to them noo in His presence." "And for all He is and does, and will ever be and do to every man who trusts Him/' added the Dr ; "our friends would be grieved, if grief were possible to them now, did they think our memory of them made us forget Him, or that our love to them made us love II im less. Surely, if they know what we are doing, they would rejoice if they knew that, along with them- selves, we too rejoiced in their God and our God. What child in heaven but would be glad to know that its parents joined with it every day in offering up, through the same Spirit, the same prayer of ' Our !' " " If Wee Davie could preach to us, I daresay, sir, that micht be his text," said the Elder. " Though dead, he yet speaketh," replied the min- ister. The Dr. rose to depart. " By the by," he said, " let me repeat a verse or two to you, Thorturn. which I am sure you will like. They express the thoughts of a parent about his dead girl, which have already in part been poorly expressed by me when your wife asked me if she would know her bov : — n I> A ? I K . *5 'She la not dead— the child of our nffec; But gone into that school "Whore she no longer needs onr poor protection, And C'nriat himself doth rule. Not as a child shall we again behold her; For when with raptures wild In our embinres We again enfold ber, She will not bo a child ; But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion Clothed with celestial erare, And beautiful with all the poul's expansion Shall we behold her face. ' "Thank ye, sir, thank ye," said Thorburn ; Ci and yc'll no be offended if I ax ye to gie me a grip o' yer han'." And the smith laid hold of the Doctor's proffered hand, so small and white, with his own hand, so large and powerful, — " God reward ye, sir, for we canna! And noo, minister," the smith continued, " I maun oot wi't ! Since ye hae been so kind ae US that fine bit o 1 English poetry, I canna help gieing you a bit o' Scotch, for Scotch poetry has been a favorite reading o' mine, and there's a verse that has been dirling a' day in my heart. This is it : — 'It's dowie at the hint, o' hn'ret, At the wa'-gan* o' the swallow, When the v And the burns ru And the wudu an >w ; But Oh I it's d'nv The gunge wi', i tet o' a Bhinii :: i '••, That eloees the weary warld on tlicel' 46 W E E D A V I V. . Fareweel, sir! I'll expect ye the morn "at two, if convenient," the smith whispered to the Dr., as he opened the door to him. "I'll be sure to come," he replied. "Thank you for those verses ; and think for your good about all I have said." That evening, after Dr. M'Gravin's visit, there was a comfortable tea prepared by Jeanie for her friends' and the Corporal was one of the party. There is a merciful reaction to strong feeling. The highest waves; when they dash against the rock, flow furthest back, and scatter themselves in their rebound into sparkling foam and airy bubbles. The Corporal told some of his old stories of weari- ness and famine, of wounds and sufferings, of marches and retreats, of battles and victories, over the fields of Spain. Old Armstrong could match these only by Covenanter tale's, of fights long ago, from the Scots Worthies, but was astonished to find the Corporal a staunch Episcopalian, who had no sympathy with rebels. Yet so kind and courteous was the pensioner, that the Elder confessed that he was "a reel fine boddie, without a grain o' bigotry." Jeanie and her mother spoke of the farm, of the cows, and of old friends among the servants, with many bygone remi- niscences. And thus'thc weight of their spirits was lightenedj although ever and anon there came one little presence before them, causing a sinking of the heart ! WEED A VIE. 47 No sooner had their friends left the house for fibfe night, than the smith did what he never did before. He opened the Bible, and said to Jeanie, "I will r a chapter aloud before we retire to rest." Je; clapped her husband fondly on the shoulder, and in silence sat down beside him while he read again some of the same passages which they had already he Few houses had that night more quiet and peace- ful keepers. The little black coffin was brought to the Bmith's the night before the funeral. When the house was quiet. Davie was laid in it gently by his father. Jeanie assumed the duty of arranging with care the white garments in which her boy was dre Wrapping them round him, and adjusting the head as if to sleep in her own bosom. She brushed once more the golden ringlets, and put the little hands across the breast, and opened out the frills in the cap, and removed every particle of sawdust which soiled the shroud. "When all was finished, though she seemed anxious to prolong the work, the lid was put on the coffin, yet so as to 1 the face uncovered. Both were as silent as their child. But ere they retired to rest for th they instinctively w«nt to take another look. zed in silence) Bide 1 ; smith felt his hand gently seized by hie wi i played at first nervously with the fy. Until finding her own hand held by her husband. 48 WEE DAVIE. looked into his face with an unutterable expres- sion, and meeting his eyes, so full of unobtrusive sorrow, leant her head on his shoulder and said, "Willie, this is my last look o' him on this side o' the grave. But, Willie dear, you and me maun see him again, and, mind ye, no to part;— na, I canna thole that ! We ken whaur he isj aud we maun gang till him. Noo, promise me ! vow alang wi' me here, as we love him and ane another, that we'll attend mair to what's glide than we hae dune, that — Willie, Forgive me, for it's no my pairt to speak, but I canna help it noo, and just, my* bonnie - man, just agree wi' me — that we'll gie our hearts forever to our ain Saviour, and th^ Saviour o' our Wee Davie!" These words, as she rested her throbbing head on her husband's shoulder, were uttered in low, broken accents, half-choked with an inward strug- gle, but without a tear. She was encouraged to say all this — for she had a timid awe of her husband — by the pressure ever and anon returned to her hand from his. The smith spoke not, but bent his head over his wife, who felt his tears falling on her neck, as he whispered, " amen, Jeanie ! so help me God!" • A silence ensued, during which. Jeanie got, as she said, " a gude ^reet,^ for the first time, which took a weight off her heart. She then quietly kicked her child and turned away. Thor- W E E D A V I E . 49 burn took the hand of his boy and said, " jfai my Wee Davie, and when you and me meet again, we'll bait! i, I tak it, be a bit different frae what we are this nicht ! " He then put the lid mechanically on the coffin, turned one or two of the screws, and s;;t dpwn at the fireside to speak about the arrange- ments of the funeral. After that, and for the first time in his life, William asked his wife to kneel down, and join with Mm in prayer before they retired to rest. Poor fellow ! he was sincere as" ever man was, and never after till the day of his deatli did he omit this ''exercise," which was once almost universal in every family in Scotland, whose "head" was a member of the church; and w»s even continued by the widow when the "head" was taken away by death. But on this, the first time, when the smith tried to utter aloud the thoughts of his heart, ho could only say, "Our Father — !': There he stopped. Something seemed to seize him, and to repress his utterance. Had he'only more fully known how much was in these words, he possibly might have gone tradi cabled in the hou* in their Sund; . though it was visible in the case of cue or two, at least, that their 1 rorse of the wear. The last of his | ions a Scotch workman will part i with , m even to keep his family in food, are his Sunday clothes ; and the last duty he will fail to per- forin, is that of following the body of a neighbor to the gra \ All those who attended the funeral, and about ' twenty assembled, had crape on their hats and wee] on their coats. The Corporal had, also, a War-medal on his breast The smith, according to custom, sat near the door, and shook cadi man by the hand as he entered. .Not a word was spoken. When all who were expected hi mbled, the Dr., who occupied a chair near the table on which the Bible lay, opened the book, and read a portion of the fifteenth chapter of the -First Epistle to the Corin- thians, without any comment. He then prayed with a fervor and suitableness which touched every heart. The little coffin was brought out. ' It was easily carried. The Corporal was the first to step forward. He saluted the smith by puttin md to his hat, soldier fashion, and begged to have the honor 0/ isting. . ' ,W E E D A v i i: . 51 Slowly the small pre aneed towards the churchyard, about half-a-niile off; and angels In-held that wondrous sight ' — wondrous as a symbol of sin, and of redemption, too. It at once speaks of the in human being as a mere creature, and of his dignity as belonging to Christ J< sus. As they v ;rave, the birds were singing", and building their nests in the budding trees. A flood of lij in glor^ ring range of hills. Overhead, the sky had only one small, snow-white cloud reposing in peace on its azure blue Whenth a hadfinished tin . and smooth- ed it down, William quietly seized the spade, and it carefully over the in with gentle beats, remo h his hand the small stones and gravel whicl 1 its surface. Those who stood very near, had they narrowly watched him, which ■ much feeling I light have obsei the smitl culiar, I ure and (lap on the grave with his hand, as if on a child's t, ere 'i turned thi with a cai ir, said, " h aoo." Then lifting up hi round, he added obleege I to ble in comii And so the t and more enduring I 52 man, as young clergyman wl could be meut of Chris " effort, " or " which would carry Dr. . lived as long in will. learn |jo\v true it is, I fulfils Himself in many s.' He is in the still, small v ften when He is neither in I nor in the hur- ricane. One of the r had— and whose admirabl , and well- doing, prosper' of my. church, and my mi; -told me on his dying bed, that, under 1 Ins chief good to the dentil i . tch accidentally with ! On the fast evi many things w) - ho I to me, " hat, avie that did it a' ! " T II E END.