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Donal Grant, by George MacDonald by George MacDonald;Donal Grant
page 58 of 729 (07%)
"Weel, we winna hae worship this mornin'; whan ye gang to the kirk
it's like aitin' mair nor's guid for ye."

"Hoots, Anerew! ye dinna think a body can hae ower muckle o' the
word!" said his wife, anxious as to the impression he might make on
Donal.

"Ow na, gien a body tak it in, an' disgeist it! But it's no a bonny
thing to hae the word stickin' about yer moo', an' baggin' oot yer
pooches, no to say lyin' cauld upo' yer stamack, an' it for the life
o' men. The less ye tak abune what ye put in practice the better;
an' gien the thing said hae naething to du wi' practice, the less ye
heed it the better.--Gien ye hae dune yer brakfast, sir, we'll
gang--no 'at it's freely kirk-time yet, but the Sabbath 's 'maist
the only day I get a bit o' a walk, an' gien ye hae nae objection
til a turn aboot the Lord's muckle hoose afore we gang intil his
little ane--we ca' 't his, but I doobt it--I'll be ready in a
meenute."

Donal willingly agreed, and the cobbler, already clothed in part of
his Sunday best, a pair of corduroy trousers of a mouse colour,
having indued an ancient tail-coat of blue with gilt buttons, they
set out together; and for their conversation, it was just the same
as it would have been any other day: where every day is not the
Lord's, the Sunday is his least of all.

They left the town, and were soon walking in meadows through which
ran a clear river, shining and speedy in the morning sun. Its banks
were largely used for bleaching, and the long lines of white in the
lovely green of the natural grass were pleasant both to eye and
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