296 THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 



her one night, at that time, and she looked so death- 

 like I took a panic believing she was dying, and I 

 feared she was resting on no hope beyond earth. 



So I spoke to her of her state, and about God being 

 near to all in sickness, and to all who sought Hira. 



She listened quietly, and then answered, "Never 

 fash your dear heart about me. The Lord, He kens 

 why He made nie what I am, and He'll pit a' richt 

 for me ony way He likes." 



As she grew older her temper and Arab-instincts 

 toned down, but her affections were as hot as ever. 

 She wailed as passionately for my " one wee lassie " 

 as she had done thirty years before for my little 

 sisters ; and when I left the old Home for a far land, 

 she clutched my dress and the baby on my knee with 

 a desperate agony which I can never forget. As I 

 looked back I saw her fling herself on the snow-drift, 

 and the last sound which followed me from home was 

 Gonga's bitter cry for " the bairns." 



Fortunately for her the one of us who had been 

 her chief darling was still left, and Lalya, and her 

 bairns, watched over Gonga's latest years, and smoothed 

 the last bit of her way. She lived to a very old age, 

 and there was "light at eventide," for with child- 

 like weakness and dependence came child-like faith, 

 and Gonga, ere she drifted into the Borderlands, was 

 trusting entirely to Him who "pits a' richt." 



