“GOOD morning, Adam Olliver. What a man you are for cutting and slashing! I never see you but you are wielding either axe or knife! What a destructive character you must be!”
“Good mornin’, Maister Philip,” said the hedger, with a smile of satisfaction, for he had a great regard for the frank young gentleman who had so kindly received his words of pleading by the gate which led to Marlpit Wood. “Ah’s nut nearly as destructive as ah leeaks te be. Ah’ve been choppin’ an’ slashin’ Farmer Houston’s hedges for nearly fifteen years; an’ ah warrant ’at they’ve neean on ’im ivver been sae thrivin’ an’ sae shaply as they are te-day.”
“Well, that looks odd,” said Philip. “I should have thought that they would grow bigger and stronger, thicker and higher, if they were left alone.”
“Hey,” said Adam, with the usual twinkle in his eye, “sae meeast on us think, sor. We wad like te be let alooane an’ just hev wer aun way; grow as wa’ like an’ deea as wa’ like, an’ we fancy ’at we sud gan higher an’ grow bigger, an’ increease i’ strength, bud it’s a grand mistak’, you may depend on ’t. If theease hedges warn’t lopped and trimmed, an’ ivvery noo an’ then chopp’d doon an’ leeaced in, they wad gan sprawlin’ ower t’ rooad o’ yah side, an’ ower t’ clooase on t’ uther, an’ grow thick i’ yah spot an’ thin iv anuther, an’ grow up two or three yards high inte t’ bargan. A rood o’ good land wad be weeasted; t’ sheep wad gan throo t’ gaps, an’t’ sun wad be kept off t’ corn, or t’ tonnops, or t’ rape, or whativver else was growin’, an’ they wad deea a parlous lot o’ mischief. Beeath t’ axe an’ t’ slashin’-knife is good for them, an’ they’re varry good for uz.”
“How do you make that out?” said Philip, amused and interested. He had a glimpse of the old man’s philosophy, and for reasons of his own, was anxious to get him into a free and talking vein.
“Why, you see,” said Adam, “human natur’s a poor, prood, wild thing, an’ when it’s left tiv itself, it nat’rally gans in for hevin’ its aun way, an’ gets warse an’ warse. Munny an’ pleasure an’ honour an’ pooer; onything at’ll minister te wer pleasure an’ profit, is seeazed an’ meead t’ meeast on, an’ sae we sud gan te ruin an’ the devil like a beggar o’ horseback. But t’ knife o’ sickness, an’ disappointment, losses an’ trubbles of all sooarts, is used biv a gracious God te bring uz te wer senses, an’ mak’ us think’ aboot summut better. Job tells us that the Lord sticks His knife intiv uz, an’ mak’s uz suffer an’ cry upo’ wer bed i’ strang payne; an’ he says, ‘Theease things worketh God of ’entahmes wi’ man, that he may bring his sowl up oot o’ t’ pit, an’ leeten him wi’ t’ leet o’ the livin’.’ T’ slashin’ ’at Joseph gat i’ t’ pit an’ i’ t’ prison trimm’d him for t’ second chariot i’ Egypt, an’ meead ’im t’ greeatest man i’ t’ cuntry. Maister Philip, leeak at that hedge,” pointing to a long low quickset hedge that divided one field from another. “That hedge is cut loa, an’ slash’d thin, an’ t’ tall tooerin’ branches was chopt hoaf through an’ bent doon inte t’ thorn, an’ if ivvery hoss i’ Farmer Houston’s steeable was te run ageean it, it wad tonn ’em back; for it’s as teeaf as leather, an’ as cloase as a sheet ov iron; an’ it’s all because it’s been kept doon an’ meead te bleed under t’ slashin’-knife.”
“Yes, you’re right, Adam,” said the young squire, thoughtfully, as his mind reverted to his own bitter disappointment in regard to his misplaced and baffled love, “only it’s hard to understand and very difficult to bear.”
Old Adam, who shrewdly guessed the current of his thoughts, and greatly sympathised with the youth in whose bona-fides he had perfect faith, replied, “Nay, deean’t trubble te ontherstand it. God’ll explayn it when it’s right for uz te knoa; but as for bidin’ it, He says ‘Mah grace is sufficient fo’ thah.’ Prayer an’ faith can mak’ uz bide whativver cross we may hae te carry; an’, Maister Philip,” said he, tenderly, “He’ll help yo’ te bide yours, if you’ll nobbut tak’ it te t’ Cross an’ ax Him ’at said, ‘Cum te me an’ ah’ll gie yo’ rist.’”
“Adam Olliver!” said the young man, “I want that rest with all my heart and soul, but I cannot find it; the last time I saw you, you quoted the words of St. John, ‘He that is born of God sinneth not.’ Tell me, Adam, as you would tell your son, what is it to be born of God?”