"Dinna greet like that, John, nor break yir hert, for it's the will
o' God, and that's aye best."

"Here's my watch and chain," placing them beside her son, who could
not touch them, nor would lift his head, "and when ye feel the chain
about yir neck it will mind ye o' yir mother's arms."

"Ye 'ill no forget me, John, I ken that weel, and I'll never forget
you. I've loved ye here and I'll love ye yonder. Th'ill no be an
'oor when I'll no pray for ye, and I'll ken better what to ask than
I did here, sae dinna be comfortless."

Then she felt for his head and stroked it once more, but he could
not look nor speak.

"Ye 'ill follow Christ, and gin He offers ye His cross, ye 'ill no
refuse it, for He aye carries the heavy end Himsel'. He's guided yir
mother a' thae years, and been as gude as a husband since yir
father's death, and He 'ill hold me fast tae the end. He 'ill keep
ye too, and, John, I'll be watchin' for ye. Ye 'ill no fail me," and
her poor cold hand that had tended him all his days tightened on his
head.

But he could not speak, and her voice was failing fast.

"I canna see ye noo, John, but I know yir there, and I've just one
other wish. If God calls ye to the ministry, ye 'ill no refuse, an'
the first day ye preach in yir ain kirk, speak a gude word for Jesus
Christ, an,' John, I'll hear ye that day, though ye 'ill no see me,
and I'll be satisfied."