ries whaur they're scarce, and the shaidow o' a
great rock's thought something o' in a weary lan'? But we sudna think
less o' a thing 'cause there's plenty o' 't. We hae a heap o' the
gospel, but we dinna think the less o' 't for that. Because ye see it's
no whether shaidows be dear or no that we think muckle or little o'
them, but whether we be richt het and tired whan we win till ane o'
them. It's that 'at maks the differ."

Sorrow herself will reveal one day that she was only the beneficent
shadow of Joy.

Will Evil ever show herself the beneficent shadow of Good?

"Whaur got Robert Bruce that gran' Bible, Annie, do ye ken?" resumed
Thomas, after whitening his hypocrite in silence for a few moments.

"That's my Bible, Thomas. Auld Mr Cowie gae't to me whan he was lyin'
near-han' deith."

"Hm! hm! ay! ay! And hoo cam' 't that ye didna tak' it and pit it i'
yer ain kist?"

"Maister Bruce tuik it and laid it i' the room as sune's I brocht it
hame."

"Did Maister Cowie say onything to ye aboot onything that was in't,
no?"

"Ay, did he. He spak' o' a five-poun' note that he had pitten in't. But
whan I luikit for't, I cudna fin' 't."

"Ay! ay! Whan did ye luik for't?"

"I forgot it for twa or three days--maybe a week."

"Do ye min' that Sunday nicht that twa or three o' 's cam hame wi'
Bruce, and had worship wi' him an' you?"

"Ay, weel eneuch. It was the first time he read oot o' my Bible."

"Was't afore or efter that 'at ye luikit for the nott?"

"It was the neist day; for the sicht o' the Bible pat it i' my min'. I
oughtna to hae thocht aboot it o' the Sawbath; but it cam' o' 'tsel';
and I didna luik till the Mononday mornin', afore they war up. I reckon
Mr Cowie forgot to pit it in efter a'."

"Hm! hm! Ay! ay!--Weel, ye see, riches taks to themsels wings and flees
awa'; and sae we maunna set oor herts upo' them, for it's no manner o'
use. We get nothing by 't. The warst bank that a man can lay up his
siller in is his ain hert. And I'll tell ye hoo that is. Ye ken whan
meal's laid up ower lang it breeds worms, and they eat the meal. But
they do little hairm forbye, for they're saft craters, and their teeth
canna do muckle ill to the girnell. But there's a kin' o' roost that
gathers and a kin' o' moth that breeds i' the gowd and siller whan
they're laid up i' the hert; and the roost's an awfu' thing for eatin'
awa', and the moth-craters hae teeth as hard's the siller that breeds
them; and instead o' e