For the
rest, Gilbert had set up his loom in an outhouse at Cauldstaneslap,
where he laboured assiduously six days of the week. His brothers,
appalled by his political opinions, and willing to avoid dissension in
the household, spoke but little to him; he less to them, remaining
absorbed in the study of the Bible and almost constant prayer. The
gaunt weaver was dry-nurse at Cauldstaneslap, and the bairns loved him
dearly. Except when he was carrying an infant in his arms, he was
rarely seen to smile - as, indeed, there were few smilers in that
family. When his sister-in-law rallied him, and proposed that he should
get a wife and bairns of his own, since he was so fond of them, "I have
no clearness of mind upon that point," he would reply. If nobody called
him in to dinner, he stayed out. Mrs. Hob, a hard, unsympathetic woman,
once tried the experiment. He went without food all day, but at dusk,
as the light began to fail him, he came into the house of his own
accord, looking puzzled. "I've had a great gale of prayer upon my
speerit," said he.
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