try and yet fails, men never mind the
tryin', they only mark the failin'."

"I dinna blame ye. There's somethin' bred in me, it seems, as sets ivery
one agin me. It's the same wi' Wullie and the tykes--they're doon on him
same as men are on me. I suppose we was made so. Sin' I was a lad it's
aye bin the same. From school days I've had ivery one agin me."

"In ma life I've had three fiends. Ma mither--and she went; then ma
wife"--he gave a great swallow--"and she's awa'; and I may say they're
the only two human bein's as ha' lived on God's earth in ma time that
iver tried to bear wi' me;--and Wullie. A man's mither--a man's wife--a
man's dog! it's aften a' he has in this warld; and the more he prizes
them the more like they are to be took from him." The little earnest
voice shook, and the dim eyes puckered and filled.

"Sin' I've bin amang ye--twenty-odd years--can any man here mind
speakin' any word that wasna ill to me?" He paused; there was no reply.

"I'll tell ye. All the time I've lived here I've had one kindly word
spoke to me, and that a fortnight gone, and not by a man then--by her
ladyship, God bless her!" He glanced up into the gallery. There was
no one visible there; but a curtain at one end shook as though it were
sobbing.

"Weel, I'm thinkin' we'll be gaein' in a wee while noo, Wullie and me,
alane and thegither, as we've aye done. And it's time we went. Ye've had
enough o' us, and it's no for me to blame ye. And when I'm gone what'll
ye say o' me? 'He was a drunkard.' I am. 'He was a sinner.' I am. 'He
was ilka thing he shouldna be.' I am. 'We're glad he's gone.' That's
what ye'll say o' me. And it's but ma deserts."

The gentle, condemning voice ceased, and began again.

"That's what I am. Gin things had been differ', aiblins I'd ha' bin
differ'. D'ye ken Robbie Burns? That's a man I've read, and read, and
read. D'ye ken why I love him as some o' you do yer Bibles? Because
there's a humanity about him. A weak man hissel', aye slippin',
slippin', slippin', and tryin' to haud up; sorrowin' ae minute, sinnin'
the next; doin' ill deeds and wishin' 'em undone--just a plain human
man, a sinner. And that's why I'm thinkin he's tender for us as is like
him. _He understood._ It's what he wrote--after ain o' his tumbles, I'm
thinkin'--that I was goin' to tell ye:

'Then gently scan yer brother man,
Still gentler sister woman,
Though they may gang a kennin' wrang,
To step aside is human