“Well, you may say what you please,” said Smith, “I, for my part, cannot believe that God would first impose laws on nature, and then go to violate his own laws. What would be the use of making them, if they are to be so readily set aside?” “I dinna ken, sir,” said uncle, very reverently, “what God may do, or what he winna do; but I don’t regard a miracle to be a violation o’ the laws o’ nature. There’s nae violation o’ the laws o’ nature, or rather the laws o’ God, that I ken o’, save the wicked actions o’ wicked men.” “And what then,” asked Smith, “do you make a miracle to be?” “I regard it,” said uncle, “to be merely such an interference wi’ the established course o’ things as infallibly shows us the presence and the action o’ a super-natural power. What o’clock is it wi’ you, sir, if you please?” “It is half past twelve exactly, Greenwich time,” replied Smith. “Well, sir,” said uncle, pulling a huge old timepiece from his pocket, “it’s ane o’clock wi’ me: I generally keep my watch a bittie forrit (a little forward). But I may hae a special reason the noo for setting my watch by the railways; and so, see ye, I’m turnin’ the hauns o’t around. Noo, wad ye say that I have violated the laws o’ a watch? True, I hae done what watchdom wi’ a’ its laws couldna hae dune for itself; but I hae dune violence to nane o’ its laws. My action is only the interference o’ superior intelligence for a suitable end; but I hae suspended nae law, violated nae law. Weel, then, instead o’ the watch, say the universe: instead of moving the hands, say God acting worthily o’ himsel’; and we hae a’ that I contend for in a miracle: that is, the unquestionable presence of an almighty hand working the divine will. And, if he sees fit to work miracles, what can hinder him? He has dune it aftener than once or twice already; and wha daur say that he’ll not get leave to do’t again?”