He did not come home any more when he felt that he had drunk too much.

He had found out houses where such a condition was the natural and the most acceptable one--houses whose doors are near to the gates of hell.
This knowledge shocked John inexpressibly, and in the depth of his horror and grief he craved some human sympathy.
"I must go and see Dr.Morrison," he said one night to Jenny.
"And you'll do right, deacon; the grip o' his hand and the shining o' his eyes in yours will do you good; forbye, you ken weel you arena fit to guide yoursel', let alane Davie.

You are too angry, and angry men tell many a lie to themsel's." There is often something luminous in the face of a good man, and Dr.
Morrison had this peculiarity in a remarkable degree.

His face seemed to radiate light; moreover, he was a man anointed with the oil of gladness above his fellows, and John no sooner felt the glow of that radiant countenance on him than his heart leaped up to welcome it.
"Doctor," he said, choking back his sorrow, "doctor, I'm fain to see you." "John, sit down.

What is it, John ?" "It's David, minister." And then John slowly, and weighing every word so as to be sure he neither over-stated nor under-stated the case, opened up his whole heart's sorrow.
"I hae suffered deeply, minister; I didna think life could be such a tragedy." "A tragedy indeed, John, but a tragedy with an angel audience.