Anerew! To think o' my bairnie that I cairriet i' my ain body, that
sookit my breists, and leuch i' my face--to think o' 'im bein' a
reprobate! O Lord! cudna he be eleckit yet? Is there nae turnin'
o' thy decrees? Na, na; that wadna do at a'. But while there's
life there's houp. But wha kens whether he be alive or no? Naebody
can tell. Glaidly wad I luik upon 's deid face gin I cud believe
that his sowl wasna amang the lost. But eh! the torments o' that
place! and the reik that gangs up for ever an' ever, smorin'
(smothering) the stars! And my Anerew doon i' the hert o' 't
cryin'! And me no able to win till him! O Lord! I canna say thy
will be done. But dinna lay 't to my chairge; for gin ye was a
mither yersel' ye wadna pit him there. O Lord! I'm verra
ill-fashioned. I beg yer pardon. I'm near oot o' my min'. Forgie
me, O Lord! for I hardly ken what I'm sayin'. He was my ain babe,
my ain Anerew, and ye gae him to me yersel'. And noo he's for the
finger o' scorn to pint at; an ootcast an' a wan'erer frae his ain
country, an' daurna come within sicht o' 't for them 'at wad tak'
the law o' 'm. An' it's a' drink--drink an' ill company! He wad
hae dune weel eneuch gin they wad only hae latten him be. What for
maun men be aye drink-drinkin' at something or ither? I never want
it. Eh! gin I war as young as whan he was born, I wad be up an'
awa' this verra nicht to luik for him. But it's no use me tryin'
't. O God! ance mair I pray thee to turn him frae the error o' 's
ways afore he goes hence an' isna more. And O dinna lat Robert gang
efter him, as he's like eneuch to do. Gie me grace to haud him
ticht, that he may be to the praise o' thy glory for ever an' ever.
Amen.'

Whether it was that the weary woman here fell asleep, or that she
was too exhausted for further speech, Robert heard no more, though