Malcolm by George MacDonald
page 106 of 753 (14%)
page 106 of 753 (14%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
a place best, Malcolm?"
The pupil thought for a while. "The evenin' licht, sir," he answered at length; "for ye see the sun's deem' like, an' deith's like a fa'in asleep, an' the grave's the bed, an' the sod's the bedclaes, an' there's a lang nicht to the fore." "Are ye sure o' that, Malcolm?" "It's the wye folk thinks an' says aboot it, sir." "Or maybe doesna think, an' only says?" "Maybe, sir; I dinna ken." "Come here, Malcolm," said Mr Graham, and took him by the arm, and led him towards the east end of the church, where a few tombstones were crowded against the wall, as if they would press close to a place they might not enter. "Read that," he said, pointing to a flat stone, where every hollow letter was shown in high relief by the growth in it of a lovely moss. The rest of the stone was rich in gray and green and brown lichens, but only in the letters grew the bright moss; the inscription stood as it were in the hand of nature herself--"He is not here; he is risen." While Malcolm gazed, trying to think what his master would have |
|