I
could see these thoughts throw their shadows over her face, as light
clouds chase each other before the sun, and throw their veil, as they
course along the sky, over the glowing landscape. It made me feel sad,
too; for how many of them with whom my early years were spent have
passed away. Of all the fruit borne by the tree of life, how small a
portion drops from it when fully ripe, and in the due course of
nature. The worm, and premature decay, are continually thinning them;
and the tempest and the blight destroy the greater part of those that
are left. Poor dear worthy old Minister, you too are gone, but not
forgotten. How could I have had these thoughts? How could I have
enjoyed these scenes? and how described them? but for you! Innocent,
pure, and simple-minded man, how fond you were of nature, the
handy-work of God, as you used to call it. How full you were of
poetry, beauty, and sublimity! And what do I not owe to you? I am not
ashamed of having been a Clockmaker, I am proud of it.1 But I should
indeed have been ashamed, with your instruction, always to have
remained one. Yes, yes!
"Why should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?"
Why? indeed.
1 This is the passage to which Mr Slick referred in the conversation I
had with him, related in Chapter I., entitled, "A Surprise."
"Tam it," said Peter, for we were so absorbed in listening to the
music, we did not hear the approach of the boat, "ta ting is very
coot, but it don't stir up te blood, and make you feel like a man, as
ta pipes do! Did she ever hear barris an tailler? Fan she has done
with her brass cow-horn, she will give it to you.
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