Janet McLaren | Page 2

me once more. The end is
near."
Janet knew that her master spoke too truly; though it grieved her loving
heart to put a stop to the play of the happy young creatures, and to
bring them to a scene of sorrow and death. "But it maun be," she said to
herself, as she went to the door of the manse. "He who kens all things
kens what is best, and the minister is ganging away from his toils and
troubles here to that happy home up there, where he will meet the dear
mistress, and, better still, be with Him who loved him, and shed His
blood to redeem him, as he himsel has often and often told us from the
pulpit."
She went some way down the hill, unwilling to utter her usual shrill
call to the young ones. "Ye maun come in now, bairns," she said, in a
gentle tone; when the children came running up on seeing her
beckoning. "The minister is sair ill, and ye'll be good and quiet, and
listen to what he says to you, he is ganging awa on a long long journey,
and ye'll promise to do what he'll tell you till ye are called to the same
place he'll reach ere lang."
Something in her tone struck Margaret, who took her hand, and looking
up into her face burst into tears. She already knew what death was.
Donald, the eldest boy, had lingered a short distance behind.
David, seeing Margaret's tears, with a startled, anxious look, took
Janet's other hand. "Is father ganging to heaven?" he asked, as they got
close to the house, showing how his mind had been occupied as they

came along.
"I am sure of it, and it is a happy, happy place," was the answer. "Ye'll
speak gently, Donald," she said, turning round to the eldest boy, who,
ignorant of his father's state, might not, she feared, restrain his
exuberant spirits.
There was no need of the caution, for the minister's altered look struck
even Donald with awe. Janet led the children up to the bedside. The
dying father stretched out his hands, and placed them on their heads, as
they clustered up to him, while his already dim eyes turned a fond
glance at their young fresh faces. "You will listen to Janet when I am
away, and pray God to help you to meet me in heaven. Make His word
your guide, and you cannot mistake the road."
"I will try to mind that, and tell Donald and David, too," was all that
Margaret could answer.
"Canna ye stay longer with us, father?" asked Donald, touching the
minister's hand, as he was wont to do when speaking to him.
"He we should all obey has called me," said Mr Morrison. "May He
bless you, and guard and keep you. Bless you! bless you!" His voice
was becoming fainter and fainter, and so he died, with his hands on his
children's heads, his loving eyes on their cherub faces.
"Blessed are they who die in the Lord," said Janet, as she observed the
smile which seemed to rest on the minister's features. Taking the
children, scarcely yet conscious of what had occurred, she led them
from the room, and then stepped back to close the eyes of the dead.
Having put the sobbing orphans to bed, she hastened out to obtain the
assistance of a neighbour in preparing the body for burial. She insisted
on paying the woman for the office she had performed, remarking, as
she did so, "I have the charge of the manse and the bairns till the
minister's friends come to take them awa', and they would na' wish to
be beholden to any one, or to leave any of his lawful debts unpaid." In
the same way she took upon herself the arrangement and expense of the

funeral. She sold the goods and chattels, as her master had directed her
to do, for the benefit of his children; but they were old and worn, and
the purchasers were few and poor, so that the proceeds placed but a
very limited sum in Janet's hands for the maintenance of the little ones.
As she received them she observed, "It's as muckle as I could ha' hoped
for; but yet those who had benefited by his ministrations might have
shown their gratitude by geeing a trifle above the value for the
chattels." Human nature is much the same in an Highland glen as it is
in other parts of the world.
The day arrived when Janet and her charges must quit the manse. She
had sent up to Jock McIntyre, the carrier, to call for the kist which
contained her's and the children's clothing, as he passed down the glen.
The most weighty