That's what I call the
music o' God, spontaneous, and the soul o' joy. Give it me every
time compared with notes frae a book. And all the fine places that
the wealth o' men ever evolved winna begin to compare with the work
o' God, and I've got that around me every day."
"But I want to see life," wailed Jimmy.
"Then open your eyes, mon, fra the love o' mercy, open your eyes!
There's life sailing over your heid in that flock o' crows going
home fra the night. Why dinna ye, or some other mon, fly like that?
There's living roots, and seeds, and insects, and worms by the
million wherever ye are setting foot. Why dinna ye creep into the
earth and sleep through the winter, and renew your life with the
spring? The trouble with ye, Jimmy, is that ye've always followed
your heels. If ye'd stayed by the books, as I begged ye, there now
would be that in your heid that would teach ye that the old story
of the Rainbow is true. There is a pot of gold, of the purest gold
ever smelted, at its foot, and we've been born, and own a good
living richt there. An' the gold is there; that I know, wealth to
shame any bilious millionaire, and both of us missing the pot when
we hold the location. Ye've the first chance, mon, fra in your life
is the great prize mine will forever lack. I canna get to the
bottom of the pot, but I'm going to come close to it as I can; and
as for ye, empty it! Take it all! It's yours! It's fra the mon who
finds it, and we own the location.
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