Adela Cathcart, Volume 3, George MacDonald [parable of the sower read online .txt] 📗

twin-brother John, he thought dead and gone,
Who followed to ease his heart.

III

"Home came Lord Archibold, weary wight,
Home to his own countree; And he cried, when his castle came in sight,
'Now Christ me save and see!'

"And the man in rust-brown, with his visor down,
Had gone, he knew not where. And he lighted down, and into the hall,
And his mother met him there.

"But dull was her eye, though her mien was high;
And she spoke like Eve to Cain: 'Lord Archibold Gordon, answer me true,
Or I'll never speak again.

"'Where is thy brother, Lord Archibold?
He was flesh and blood of thine. Has thy brother's keeper laid him cold,
Where the warm sun cannot shine?'

"Lord Archibold could not speak a word,
For his heart was almost broke. He turned to go. The carrion-crow
At the window gave a croak.

"'Now where art thou going, Lord Archie?' she said,
'With thy lips so white and thin?' 'Mother, good-bye; I am going to lie
In the earth with my brother-twin.'

"Lady Margaret sank on her couch. 'Alas!
I shall lose them both to-day.' Lord Archibold strode along the road,
To the field of the Brothers' Fray.

"He came to the spot where they had fought.
'My God!' he cried in fright, 'They have left him there, till his bones are bare;
Through the plates they glimmer white.'

"For his brother's armour lay there, dank,
And worn with frost and dew. Had the long, long grass that grew so rank,
Grown the very armour through?

"'O brother, brother!' cried the Earl,
With a loud, heart-broken wail, 'I would put my soul into thy bones,
To see thee alive and hale.'

"'Ha! ha!' said a voice from out the helm-
'Twas the voice of the Dead Sea shore- And the joints did close, and the armour rose,
And clattered and grass uptore-

"'Thou canst put no soul into his bones,
Thy brother alive to set; For the sleep was thine, and thy soul is mine,
And, Lord Archibold, well-met!'

"'Two words to that!' said the fearless Earl;
'The sleep was none of thine; For I dreamed of my brother all the night-
His soul brought the sleep to mine.

"'But I care not a crack for a soul so black,
And thou may'st have it yet: I would let it burn to eternity,
My brother alive to set.'

"The demon lifted his beaver up,
Crusted with blood and mould; And, lo! John Gordon looked out of the helm,
And smiled upon Archibold.

"'Thy soul is mine, brother Archie,' he said,
'And I yield it thee none the worse; No devil came near thee, Archie, lad,
But a brother to be thy nurse.'

"Lord Archibold fell upon his knee,
On the blood-fed, bright green sod: 'The soul that my brother gives back to me,
Is thine for ever, O God!'"


"Now for a piece of good, honest prose!" said the curate, the moment Harry had finished, without allowing room for any remarks. "That is, if the ladies and gentlemen will allow me to read once more."

Of course, all assented heartily.

"It is nothing of a story, but I think it is something of a picture, drawn principally from experiences of my own childhood, which I told you was spent chiefly in the north of Scotland. The one great joy of the year, although some years went without it altogether, was the summer visit paid to the shores of the Moray Firth. My story is merely a record of some of the impressions left on myself by such a visit, although the boy is certainly not a portrait of myself; and if it has no result, no end, reaching beyond childhood into what is commonly called life, I presume it is not of a peculiar or solitary character in that respect; for surely many that we count finished stories-life-histories-must look very different to the angels; and if they haven't to be written over again, at least they have to be carried on a few aeons further.

"A CHILD'S HOLIDAY.

"Before the door of a substantial farm-house in the north of Scotland, stands a vehicle of somewhat singular construction. When analysed, however, its composition proves to be simple enough. It is a common agricultural cart, over which, by means of a few iron rods bent across, a semi-cylindrical covering of white canvas has been stretched. It is thus transformed from a hay or harvest cart into a family carriage, of comfortable dimensions, though somewhat slow of progress. The lack of springs is supplied by thick layers of straw, while sacks stuffed with the same material are placed around for seats. Various articles are being stowed away under the bags, and in the corners among the straw, by children with bright expectant faces; the said articles having been in process of collection and arrangement for a month or six weeks previous, in anticipation of the journey which now lies, in all its length and brightness, the length and brightness of a long northern summer's day, before them.

"At last, all their private mysteries of provisions, playthings, and books, having found places of safety more or less accessible on demand, every motion of the horse, every shake and rattle of the covered cart, makes them only more impatient to proceed; which desire is at length gratified by their moving on at a funeral pace through the open gate. They are followed by another cart loaded with the luggage necessary for a six-week's sojourn at one of the fishing villages on the coast, about twenty miles distant from their home. Their father and mother are to follow in the gig, at a later hour in the day, expecting to overtake them about half-way on the road.-Through the neighbouring village they pass, out upon the lonely highway.

"Some seeds are borne to the place of their destiny by their own wings and the wings of the wind, some by the wings of birds, some by simple gravitation. The seed of my story, namely, the covered cart, sent forth to find the soil for its coming growth, is dragged by a stout horse to the sea-shore; and as it oscillates from side to side like a balloon trying to walk, I shall say something of its internal constitution, and principally of its germ; for, regarded as the seed of my story, a pale boy of thirteen is the germ of the cart. First, though he will be of little use to us afterwards, comes a great strong boy of sixteen, who considerably despises this mode of locomotion, believing himself quite capable of driving his mother in the gig, whereas he is only destined to occupy her place in the evening, and return with his father. Then comes the said germ, a boy whom repeated attacks of illness have blanched, and who looks as if the thinness of its earthly garment made his soul tremble with the proximity of the ungenial world. Then follows a pretty blonde, with smooth hair, and smooth cheeks, and bright blue eyes, the embodiment of home pleasures and love; whose chief enjoyment, and earthly destiny indeed, so far as yet revealed, consist in administering to the cupidities of her younger brother, a very ogre of gingerbread men, and Silenus of bottled milk. This milk, by the way, is expected, from former experience, to afford considerable pleasure at the close of the journey, in the shape of one or two pellets of butter in each bottle; the novelty of the phenomenon, and not any scarcity of the article, constituting the ground of interest. A baby on the lap of a rosy country-girl, and the servant in his blue Sunday coat, who sits outside the cover on the edge of the cart, but looks in occasionally to show some attention to the young woman, complete the contents of the vehicle.

"Herbert Netherby, though, as I have said, only thirteen years of age, had already attained a degree of mental development sufficient for characterization. Disease had favoured the almost unhealthy predominance of the mental over the bodily powers of the child; so that, although the constitution which at one time was supposed to have entirely given way, had for the last few years been gradually gaining strength, he was still to be seen far oftener walking about with his hands in his pockets, and his gaze bent on the ground, or turned up to the clouds, than joining in any of the boyish sports of those of his own age. A nervous dread of ridicule would deter him from taking his part, even when for a moment the fountain of youthfulness gushed forth, and impelled him to find rest in activity. So the impulse would pass away, and he would relapse into his former quiescence. But this partial isolation ministered to the growth of a love of Nature which, although its roots were coeval with his being, might not have so soon appeared above ground, but for this lack of human companionship. Thus the boy became one of Nature's favourites, and enjoyed more than a common share of her teaching.

"But he loved her most in her stranger moods. The gathering of a blue cloud, on a sultry summer afternoon, he watched with intense hope, in expectation of a thunder-storm; and a windy night, after harvest, when the trees moaned and tossed their arms about, and the wind ran hither and hither over the desolate fields of stubble, made the child's heart dance within him, and sent him out careering through the deepening darkness. To meet him then, you would not have known him for the sedate, actionless boy, whom you had seen in the morning looking listlessly on while his schoolfellows played. But of all his loves for the shows of Nature, none was so strong as his love for water-common to childhood, with its mills of rushes, its dams, its bridges, its aqueducts; only in Herbert, it was more a quiet, delighted contemplation. Weakness prevented his joining his companions in the river; but the sight of their motions in the mystery of the water, as they floated half-idealized in the clear depth, or glided along by graceful propulsion, gave him as much real enjoyment as they received themselves. For it was water itself that delighted him, whether in rest or motion; whether rippling over many stones, like the first half-articulate sounds of a child's speech, mingled with a strange musical tremble and cadence which the heart only, and not the ear, could detect; or lying in deep still pools, from the bottom of which gleamed up bright green stones, or yet brighter water-plants, cool in their little grotto, with water for an atmosphere and a firmament, through which the sun-rays came, washed of their burning heat, but undimmed of their splendour. He would lie for an hour by the side of