The boy made no answer, and Donal went on.
“Do you think God would have his child do anything disgraceful? Why, Davie, you don’t know your own Father! What God wants of us is to be down-right honest, and do what he tells us without fear.”
Davie was silent. His conscience reproved him, as the conscience of a true-hearted boy will reprove him at the very mention of the name of God, until he sets himself consciously to do his will. Donal said no more, and they went for their walk.
CHAPTER XVI.
COLLOQUIES.
In the evening Donal went to see Andrew Comin.
“Weel, hoo are ye gettin’ on wi’ the yerl?” asked the cobbler.
“You set me a good example of saying nothing about him,” answered Donal; “and I will follow it—at least till I know more: I have scarce seen him yet.”
“That’s right!” returned the cobbler with satisfaction. “I’m thinkin’ ye’ll be ane o’ the feow ’at can rule their ane hoose—that is, haud their ain tongues till the hoor for speech be come. Stick ye to that, my dear sir, an’ mair ’ll be weel nor in general is weel.”
“I’m come to ye for a bit o’ help though; I want licht upo’ a queston ’at ’s lang triblet me.—What think ye?—hoo far does the comman’ laid upo’ ’s, as to warfare ’atween man an’ man, reach? Are we never ta raise the han’ to human bein’, think ye?”
“Weel, I hae thoucht a heap aboot it, an’ I daurna say ’at I’m jist absolute clear upo’ the maitter. But there may be pairt clear whaur a’ ’s no clear; an’ by what we un’erstan’ we come the nearer to what we dinna un’erstan’. There’s ae thing unco plain—’at we’re on no accoont to return evil for evil: onybody ’at ca’s himsel’ a Christian maun un’erstan’ that muckle. We’re to gie no place to revenge, inside or oot. Therefore we’re no to gie blow for blow. Gien a man hit ye, ye’re to tak it i’ God’s name. But whether things mayna come to a p’int whaurat ye’re bu’n’, still i’ God’s name, to defen’ the life God has gien ye, I canna say—I haena the licht to justifee me in denyin’ ’t. There maun surely, I hae said to mysel’, be a time whan a man may hae to du what God dis sae aften—mak use o’ the strong han’! But it’s clear he maunna do ’t in rage—that’s ower near hate—an’ hate ’s the deevil’s ain. A man may, gien he live varra near the Lord, be whiles angry ohn sinned: but the wrath o’ man warketh not the richteousness o’ God; an’ the wrath that rises i’ the mids o’ encoonter, is no like to be o’ the natur o’ divine wrath. To win at it, gien ’t be possible, lat ’s consider the Lord—hoo he did. There’s no word o’ him ever liftin’ han’ to protec’ himsel’. The only thing like it was for ithers. To gar them lat his disciples alane—maybe till they war like eneuch til himsel’ no to rin, he pat oot mair nor his han’ upo’ them ’at cam to tak him: he strak them sair wi’ the pooer itsel’ ’at muvs a’ airms. But no varra sair naither—he but knockit them doon!—jist to lat them ken they war to du as he bade them, an’ lat his fowk be;—an’ maybe to lat them ken ’at gien he loot them tak him, it was no ’at he couldna hin’er them gien he likit. I canna help thinkin’ we may stan’ up for ither fowk. An’ I’m no sayin’ ’at we arena to defen’ oorsel’s frae a set attack wi’ design.—But there’s something o’ mair importance yet nor kennin’ the richt o’ ony queston.”