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As for literature, he read the classic poets, to be sure, and the 'Epithalamium' of Georgius Buchanan and Arthur Johnston's Psalms, of a Sunday; and the 'Deliciae Poetarum Scotorum, and Sir David Lindsay's 'Works', and Barbour's 'Brace', and Blind Harry's 'Wallace', and 'The Gentle Shepherd', and 'The Cherry and The Slae.
They took their hats and followed Captain Tessin down the stairs. A third time the bell spoke, and the strokes were thirty. "Ah!" said Knightley, "that's for the Tangier Foot. Well, good luck to you, Major!" and he passed through the door. "A moment, Knightley. The regiment first. You wear Ensign Barbour's uniform. You must do more than wear his uniform. The regiment first."
He, indeed, calls the language he wrote in "Inglis," but it is a different English from that of Chaucer. They were both founded on Anglo-Saxon, but instead of growing into modern English, Barbour's tongue grew into what was known later as "braid Scots."
Barbour's best-known book is called The Bruce, and in it, instead of the quiet tales of middle-class people, we hear throughout the clash and clang of battle. Here once again we have the hero of romance. Here once again history and story are mingled, and Robert the Bruce swings his battle-ax and wings his faultless arrow, saving his people from the English yoke.
For Edward the Second we have three important contemporaries: Thomas de la More, Trokelowe's Annals, and the life by a monk of Malmesbury printed by Hearne. The sympathies of the first are with the King, those of the last two with the Barons. Murimuth's short Chronicle is also contemporary. John Barbour's "Bruce," the great legendary storehouse for his hero's adventures, is historically worthless.
Under his reign, Henryson, the greatest of the Chaucerian school in Scotland, produced his admirable poems. Many other poets whose works are lost were flourishing; and The Wallace, that elaborate plagiarism from Barbour's 'The Brus, was composed, and attributed to Blind Harry, a paid minstrel about the Court.
The tone was one of momentous inquiry. Miss Barbour's coming was a matter that could wait, but supper necessitated a solemn decision which must be made at once. Hands clasped behind her, the blue eyes grew big with suspense, and again she repeated, "Which?" "I really don't know. Both are very good. I believe I like sardines better than Oh no, I don't."
"'Chad, where did dat leg go? An' so I ups an' tells him all about Henny, an' how I was lyin' 'cause I was 'feared de gal would git hurt, an' how she was on'y a-foolin', thinkin' it was my goose; an' den de ole marsa look in de fire for a long time, an' den he says: "'Dat's Colonel Barbour's Henny, ain't it, Chad? "'Yes, marsa, says I.
Chad hurried into the room with the face of a man sent for to put out a fire. "Chad," said the colonel, "you know the big hill as you go up from the marsh at home?" "Yes, sah." "Whose lan' is the coal on, mine or Jedge Barbour's?" The old darky's face changed from an expression of the deepest anxiety to an effort at the deepest thought.
Yet there is something in the air, for the first thing I heard on returning to Westport was that Mr. Barbour's herdsman, who lives at Erriff Bridge, had been warned to leave his master's service. He cannot afford to leave his place, for it is his sole means of subsistence, and if turned out in the world the poor fellow might starve.
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