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Many soldiers and officers of the Argyle and Sutherlanders pass the hoose at Dunoon on the Clyde. None ever passes the hoose, though, without dropping in, for a bite and sup if he has time to stop, and to tell us stories of our beloved boy. No, I would no have you think that I would exalt my boy above all the others who have lived and died in France in the way of duty. But he was such a good boy!
But, 'deed, it's that onygait, forit's nigh whaur ye tak yer walks abro'd. But gien ye war to luik in at the door, and cry, Steenie! sune wud ye see whether I was in the hoose or no! I thank ye sair for this hoose: I'm gaein to hae a rich and a happy time upo' this hill o' Zion, whaur the feet o' the ae man gangs walkin!
They brichten up the hoose it'd be dull' and drear wi'oot them. I'm hoping that daft lad never comes back, for all o' Lizzie's thinking on him!" And I share his hope. Chance! Had ever man a greater chance than that sailor lad? He had gone wrong as a boy.
"The weemen are flighty and the lads are quate, and the hoose will no' be itsel' till ye will be moving about again, an' Miss Janet's lad will . . ." "I will not have Dan called that, Betty," says my aunt. "Ewan McBride's lad he is, if ye must deave me with his forebears . . ."
"A stranger sud aye be welcomed to onybody's hoose." "I didna ken it was your hoose." "Ow na. It's no my hoose. It's the Lord's hoose.
The old lady was very affable. In her early life she had been connected with an inn at Mauchline, and had seen the poet often. "Rabbie was a funny fellow," she said; "I ken'd him weel; and he stoppit at our hoose on his way up to Edinburgh to see the lairds." I asked her if he was not always humorous.
"It's a peety for the wean, wi' a' these weemen waitin' till he grows up. I'm dootin' he'll be swept oot o' his ain hoose wi' petticoats, and take up wi' the dark-skinned beauties in the far glens, like Esau." And sorely put out were the women when Dan, referring to the heir, said he'd come in time for the best o' the grass.
Three months o' tongue-haudin', an' there's yer five poun'; an' Maister Soutar o' Duff Harbor 'ill pay 't intill yer ain han'. But brack troth wi' me, an' ye s' hear o' 't; for gien ye war hangt the warl' wad be a' the cleaner. Noo quit the hoose, an' never lat me see ye aboot the place again. But afore ye gang I gie ye fair warnin' 'at I mean to win at a' yer byganes."
"Hoots, toots, Andra!" cried Duncan Polite reprovingly, "it's jist violent you will be; and, indeed, I will be thinkin' it would not be right to drive the young folks." "The Maister drove oot wi' a scourage them as misused the hoose o' God," responded the apostle of force severely. "Aye, the Master," said Duncan, his fine face lighting up. "The Master!" he repeated the word tenderly.
The mountins an' rocks is the brick an' lum-cans aff Mistress Mollison's hoose, I'm thinkin'." An' I cudna help addin' "It's ower late to be thinkin' aboot startin' to the Bible efter Gabriel's begun to blaw his tuter, Sandy. Come awa' to your bed!"
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