Jamie, sad from his recent loss, replied with much feeling, "I see more and more clearly, as I grow older, that the good one does lives after him. My step-father was but a simple cottager, and yet I hear him spoken of almost with reverence. Goodness is better than greatness, and the memory of the just does not perish. We think of our friends, dead or living, and we find that nothing draws our affections towards them like sterling worth; wealth or beauty, wit or wisdom, cannot give permanence to our esteem for them."
"Ye are right, Mr. Murdoch. I hae had sic thoughts mysel, but I couldna hae worded them as weel as yoursel did."
Donald the first, or douce Donald, followed by Donald the third, now joined them. They had been with the lad's father and a neighbor to the stable, where the latter was negotiating for a fine young horse. Douce Donald could not think of letting the colt be sold without having something to say in regard to his merits. He was sure, he said, that his son would forget to tell "how strong o' limb the beastie was, how high he carried his heid, and how canny he was in the harness." The bargain had been satisfactorily concluded before he returned to the house.
Jamie soon perceived that the aged man had lost none of his ancient garrulity. He gave the history of several men who had played with Jamie when they were lads together; he asked questions about the improvements and inventions of the day; and could not sufficiently admire the railroad and the telegraph.
"The warld has grawn too wonderful for auld Donald McPherson," he said meditatively, shaking his head. "While the warld is changing men canna stand still. I'm muckle changed mysel frae the Donald I once was, and I owe the gude that is in me to your faither. I could a'maist as soon forget my ain name as to forget honest Wullie. I hae him as plainly before me as though he died but yesterday, and it is seven years agone. There will be mair o' us gane soon, or auld age will no hae dune its wark. God grant that when the angel o' death puts in the sickle we may a' be as ripe for the heavenly garner as your gude faither was."
He sighed and remained silent a few moments; then, regaining the buoyancy of spirits that was natural to him, he led his little grandson to his uncle, saying,
"What think ye o' this bairn? Is he na a fine lad?"
James Murdoch extended his hand and drew his nephew to his side. He told him stories of his own sons when they were small. "They are in school and at their books by this time; but no doubt they have had a long tramp before the school hour came."
"Robert and William are very unlike in some respects," he said, addressing his conversation to Annie, "but in one thing they do not differ: they love to seek out all the historical places in and around Edinburgh. They know more about the old castles and fortresses than I do myself. I do not know what they will accomplish in the world, but they are bright, active lads now."