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THE MOOR.
The night began to descend and he to be weary, and look about him
for a place of repose. But there was a long twilight before him,
and it was warm.
For some time the road had been ascending, and by and by he found
himself on a bare moor, among heather not yet in bloom, and a forest
of bracken. Here was a great, beautiful chamber for him! and what
better bed than God's heather! what better canopy than God's high,
star-studded night, with its airy curtains of dusky darkness! Was
it not in this very chamber that Jacob had his vision of the mighty
stair leading up to the gate of heaven! Was it not under such a
roof Jesus spent his last nights on the earth! For comfort and
protection he sought no human shelter, but went out into his
Father's house--out under his Father's heaven! The small and narrow
were not to him the safe, but the wide and open. Thick walls cover
men from the enemies they fear; the Lord sought space. There the
angels come and go more freely than where roofs gather distrust. If
ever we hear a far-off rumour of angel-visit, it is not from some
solitary plain with lonely children?
Donal walked along the high table-land till he was weary, and rest
looked blissful. Then he turned aside from the rough track into the
heather and bracken. When he came to a little dry hollow, with a
yet thicker growth of heather, its tops almost close as those of his
bed at his father's cottage, he sought no further. Taking his
knife, he cut a quantity of heather and ferns, and heaped it on the
top of the thickest bush; then creeping in between the cut and the
growing, he cleared the former from his face that he might see the
worlds over him, and putting his knapsack under his head, fell fast
asleep.
When he woke not even the shadow of a dream lingered to let him know
what he had been dreaming. He woke with such a clear mind, such an
immediate uplifting of the soul, that it seemed to him no less than
to Jacob that he must have slept at the foot of the heavenly stair.
The wind came round him like the stuff of thought unshaped, and
every breath he drew seemed like God breathing afresh into his
nostrils the breath of life. Who knows what the thing we call air
is? We know about it, but it we do not know. The sun shone as if
smiling at the self-importance of the sulky darkness he had driven
away, and the world seemed content with a heavenly content. So
fresh was Donal's sense that he felt as if his sleep within and the
wind without had been washing him all the night. So peaceful, so
blissful was his heart that it longed to share its bliss; but there
was no one within sight, and he set out again on his journey.
He had not gone far when he came to a dip in the moorland--a round
hollow, with a cottage of turf in the middle of it, from whose
chimney came a little smoke: there too the day was begun! He was
glad he had not seen it before, for then he might have missed the
repose of the open night. At the door stood a little girl in a blue
frock. She saw him, and ran in. He went down and drew near to the
door. It stood wide open, and he could not help seeing in.
A man sat at the table in the middle of the floor, his forehead on
his hand. Donal did not see his face. He seemed waiting, like his
father for the Book, while his mother got it from the top of the
wall. He stepped over the threshold, and in the simplicity of his
heart, said:--
"Ye'll be gaein' to hae worship!"
"Na, na!" returned the man, raising his head, and taking a brief,
hard stare at his visitor; "we dinna set up for prayin' fowk i' this
hoose." We ley that to them 'at kens what they hae to be thankfu'
for."
"I made a mistak," said Donal. "I thoucht ye micht hae been gaein'
to say gude mornin' to yer makker, an' wad hae likit to j'in wi' ye;
for I kenna what I haena to be thankfu' for. Guid day to ye."
"Ye can bide an' tak yer parritch gien ye like."
"Ow, na, I thank ye. Ye micht think I cam for the parritch, an' no
for the prayers. I like as ill to be coontit a hypocrite as gien I
war ane."
"Ye can bide an' hae worship wi' 's, gien ye tak the buik yersel'."
"I canna lead whaur 's nane to follow. Na; I'll du better on the
muir my lane."
But the gudewife was a religions woman after her fashion--who can be
after any one else's? She came with a bible in her hand, and
silently laid it on the table. Donal had never yet prayed aloud
except in a murmur by himself on the hill, but, thus invited, could
not refuse. He read a psalm of trouble, breaking into hope at the
close, then spoke as follows:--
"Freens, I'm but yoong, as ye see, an' never afore daured open my
moo i' sic fashion, but it comes to me to speyk, an' wi' yer leave
speyk I wull. I canna help thinkin' the gudeman 's i' some
trible--siclike, maybe, as King Dawvid whan he made the psalm I hae
been readin' i' yer hearin'. Ye observt hoo it began like a stormy
mornin', but ye h'ard hoo it changed or a' was dune. The sun comes
oot bonny i' the en', an' ye hear the birds beginnin' to sing,
tellin' Natur' to gie ower her greitin'. An' what brings the guid
man til's senses, div ye think? What but jist the thoucht o' him
'at made him, him 'at cares aboot him, him 'at maun come to ill
himsel' 'afore he lat onything he made come to ill. Sir, lat's gang
doon upo' oor knees, an' commit the keepin' o' oor sowls to him as
til a faithfu' creator, wha winna miss his pairt 'atween him an'
hiz."
They went down on their knees, and Donal said,
"O Lord, oor ain father an' saviour, the day ye hae sent 's has
arrived bonny an' gran', an' we bless ye for sen'in' 't; but eh, oor
father, we need mair the licht that shines i' the darker place. We
need the dawn o' a spiritual day inside 's, or the bonny day ootside
winna gang for muckle. Lord, oor micht, speyk a word o' peacefu'
recall to ony dog o' thine 'at may be worryin' at the hert o' ony
sheep o' thine 'at's run awa; but dinna ca' him back sae as to lea'
the puir sheep 'ahint him; fess back dog an' lamb thegither, O Lord.
Haud 's a' frae ill, an' guide 's a' to guid, an' oor mornin' prayer
's ower. Amen."
They rose from their knees, and sat silent for a moment. Then the
guidwife put the pot on the fire with the water for the porridge.
But Donal rose, and walked out of the cottage, half wondering at
himself that he had dared as he had, yet feeling he had done but the
most natural thing in the world.
"Hoo a body 's to win throuw the day wantin' the lord o' the day an'
the hoor an' the minute, 's 'ayont me!" he said to himself, and
hastened away.
Ere noon the blue line of the far ocean rose on the horizon.
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