The thing God does is guid enough fra me."
"Why don't you take a short cut to the matin'-house?" inquired
Jimmy.
"Because I wad have nothing to say when I got there," retorted
Dannie. "I've a meetin'-house of my ain, and it juist suits me;
and I've a God, too, and whether He is spirit or essence, He
suits me. I dinna want to be held to sharper account than He
faces me up to, when I hold communion with mesel'. I dinna want
any better meetin'-house than Rainbow Bottom. I dinna care for
better talkin' than the `tongues in the trees'; sounder preachin'
than the `sermons in the stones'; finer readin' than the books in
the river; no, nor better music than the choir o' the birds, each
singin' in its ain way fit to burst its leetle throat about the
mate it won, the nest they built, and the babies they are
raising. That's what I call the music o' God, spontaneous, and
the soul o' joy. Give it me every time compared with notes frae a
book. And all the fine places that the wealth o' men ever evolved
winna begin to compare with the work o' God, and I've got that
around me every day."
"But I want to see life," wailed Jimmy.
"Then open your eyes, mon, fra the love o' mercy, open your eyes!
There's life sailing over your heid in that flock o' crows going
home fra the night.
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