The
response, however, which he received was:
"Ah, faither, never mind, patience and perseverance make the man, ye
ken."
He toiled on with his burden, but shaking with laughter. He was hoist
with his own petard, but his burden grew lighter all the same. I am
sure of this.
My home, of course, was with my instructor, guide, and inspirer, Uncle
Lauder--he who had done so much to make me romantic, patriotic, and
poetical at eight. Now I was twenty-seven, but Uncle Lauder still
remained Uncle Lauder. He had not shrunk, no one could fill his place.
We had our walks and talks constantly and I was "Naig" again to him.
He had never had any name for me but that and never did have. My dear,
dear uncle, and more, much more than uncle to me.[23]
[Footnote 23: "This uncle, who loved liberty because it is the
heritage of brave souls, in the dark days of the American Civil War
stood almost alone in his community for the cause which Lincoln
represented." (Hamilton Wright Mabie in _Century Magazine_, vol. 64,
p. 958.)]
I was still dreaming and so excited that I could not sleep and had
caught cold in the bargain. The natural result of this was a fever. I
lay in uncle's house for six weeks, a part of that time in a critical
condition. Scottish medicine was then as stern as Scottish theology
(both are now much softened), and I was bled.
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