tching her growing pale with what I afterwards knew must
have been strong pain. She had, being feverish, slipped out of bed, and
"grandmother," her mother, seeing her "change come," had called my
father, and they two saw her open her blue, kind, and true eyes,
"comfortable" to us all "as the day"--I remember them better than those
of any one I saw yesterday--and, with one faint look of recognition to
him, close them till the time of the restitution of all things.

"She had another morn than ours."

Then were seen in full action his keen, passionate nature, his sense of
mental pain, and his supreme will, instant and unsparing, making himself
and his terrified household give thanks in the midst of such a
desolation,--and for it. Her warfare was accomplished, her iniquities
were pardoned: she had already received from her Lord's hand double for
all her sins; this was his supreme and over-mastering thought, and he
gave it utterance.

[9] A year ago, I found an elderly countrywoman, a widow, waiting
for me. Rising up, she said, "D'ye mind me?" I looked at
her, but could get nothing from her face; but the voice
remained in my ear, as if coming from "the fields of sleep,"
and I said by a sort of instinct, "Tibbie Meek!" I had not
seen her or heard her voice for more than forty years. She
had come to get some medical advice. Voices are often like
the smells of flowers and leaves, the tastes of wild
fruits--they touch and awaken memory in a strange way.
"Tibbie" is now living at Thankerton.

[10] This sofa, which was henceforward sacred in the house, he
had always beside him. He used to tell us he set her down
upon it when he brought her home to the manse.

No man was happier in his wives. My mother was modest, calm, thrifty,
reasonable, tender, happy-hearted. She was his student-love, and is even
now remembered in that pastoral region, for "her sweet gentleness and
wife-like government." Her death and his sorrow and loss, settled down
deep into the heart of the countryside. He was so young and bright, so
full of fire, so unlike any one else, so devoted to his work, so
chivalrous in his look and manner, so fearless, and yet so sensitive and
self-contained. She was so wise, good and gentle, gracious and frank.

His subtlety of affection, and his almost cruel self-command, were shown
on the day of the funeral. It was to Symington