Alec Forbes of Howglen | Page 4

indignation quite human in the way the cow tossed her bound head and
neck towards the woman that darkened the door, as if warning her off
her premises. But without a word of reply, Annie rose, flung her arms
around Brownie's head, kissed the white star on her forehead,
disengaged herself from the grass, and got out of the manger. Auntie
seized her hand with a rough action, but not ungentle grasp, and led her
away to the house. The stones felt very hot to her little bare feet.
CHAPTER III.
By this time the funeral was approaching the churchyard at a more
rapid pace; for the pedestrians had dropped away one by one, on
diverging roads, or had stopped and retraced their steps. But as they

drew near the place, the slow trot subsided into a slow walk once more.
To an English eye the whole mode would have appeared barbarous. But
if the carved and gilded skulls and cross-bones on the hearse were
ill-conceived, at least there were no awful nodding plumes to make
death hideous with yet more of cloudy darkness; and one of the panels
showed, in all the sunshine that golden rays could yield, the
Resurrection of the Lord--the victory over the grave. And, again, when
they stopped at the gate of the churchyard, they were the hands of
friends and neighbours, and not those of cormorant undertakers and
obscene mutes, that bore the dead man to his grave. And, once more, if
the only rite they observed, when the body had settled into its place of
decay, was the silent uncovering of the head, as a last token of respect
and farewell, it may be suggested that the Church of England herself, in
all her beautiful service, has no prayer for the departed soul, which
cannot be beyond the need of prayer, as the longings that follow it into
the region of the Unknown, are not beyond its comfort.
Before the grave was quite filled the company had nearly gone.
Thomas Crann, the stone-mason, and George Macwha, the wright,
alone remained behind, for they had some charge over the
arrangements, and were now taking a share in covering the grave. At
length the last sod was laid upon the mound, and stamped into its place,
where soon the earth's broken surface would heal, as society would
flow together again, closing over the place that had known the departed,
and would know him no more. Then Thomas and George sat down,
opposite to each other, on two neighbouring tombstones, and wiping
their brows, gave each a sigh of relief, for the sun was hot and
oppressive.
"Hech! it's a weary warl," said George.
"Ye hae no richt to say sae, George," answered Thomas, "for ye hae
never met it, an' foughten wi' 't. Ye hae never draan the soord o' the
Lord and o' Gideon. Ye hae never broken the pitcher, to lat the lamp
shine out, an' I doubt ye hae smo'red it by this time. And sae, whan the
bridegroom comes, ye'll be ill-aff for a licht."
"Hoot, man! dinna speak sic awfu' things i' the verra kirkyard."

"Better hear them i' the kirkyard than at the closed door, George!"
"Weel, but," rejoined Macwha, anxious to turn the current of the
conversation, which he found unpleasantly personal, "jist tell me
honestly, Thamas Crann, do ye believe, wi' a' yer heart an' sowl, that
the deid man--Gude be wi' him!--"
"No prayin' for the deid i' my hearin', George! As the tree falleth, so it
shall lie."
"Weel! weel! I didna mean onything."
"That I verily believe. Ye seldom do!"
"But I jist want to speir," resumed George, with some asperity, getting
rather nettled at his companion's persistent discourtesy, "gin ye believe
that Jeames Anderson here, honest man, aneath our feet, crumblin' awa',
as ye ken, and no ae spoke o' his wheel to the fore, or lang, to tell what
his cart was like--do ye believe that his honest face will, ae day, pairt
the mouls, an' come up again, jist here, i' the face o' the light, the verra
same as it vanished whan we pat the lid ower him? Do ye believe that,
Thamas Crann?"
"Na, na, George, man. Ye ken little what ye're busiest sayin'. It'll be a
glorifeed body that he'll rise wi'. It's sown in dishonour, and raised in
glory. Hoot! hoot! ye are ignorant, man!"
Macwha got more nettled still at his tone of superiority.
"Wad it be a glorifeed timmer-leg he rase wi', gin he had been buried
wi' a timmer-leg?" asked he.
"His ain leg wad be buried some gait."
"Ow ay! nae doubt. An' it wad come happin' ower the Paceefic, or the
Atlantic, to jine its oreeginal stump--wad it no? But supposin' the man
had