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Updated: June 12, 2025
I remembered the verse Sadler used to chant to me in the Hebe Maitland days, when I was acting more gay than he thought becoming to the uselessness of me. "Oh, sailor boy," he says. "Oh, sailor, my sailor boy, bonny and blue, You're rompin', you're roamin', The long slantin' sorrows are waiting for you In the gloamin', the gloamin'."
The gloamin' came down much sooner in Grannie's cottage than on the sides of the eastward hills, but the old woman made up her little fire, and it glowed a bright heart to the shadowy place. Though the room was always dusky, it was never at this season quite dark any time of the night.
I saw you on the stepping-stones just when I was meetin' Blackie, but I thought you had been away home before now; it surely must be far on in the gloamin'. Eh, Elsie, but I'll no be able to keep the tryst for the bramble gatherin' wi' you," he said, in a mournful tone, turning towards her, and referring to a long-planned holiday, when they were to go together to search for brambles for Mistress Gowrie and the forester's wife's joint jam making.
'I tell ye I wantit to ken what that ne'er-do-weel brither o' mine was efter. I had seen the horses stan'in' aboot twa or three times i' the gloamin'; an' Sandy maun be aboot ill gin he be aboot onything. 'What can 't maitter to you, Shargar, what a man like him 's aboot?
A big-boned, slow-moving man of the best country house-gardener type, serviceably dressed in corduroy, wool bonnet, and ribbed stockings, James Brown collided with the small and wiry landlord, to his own very great embarrassment. "Eh, Maister Traill, ye gied me a turn. It's no' canny to be proolin' aboot the kirkyaird i' the gloamin'."
Naebody has ca'd me by that name sin' my mither pairted wi' me at the stage coach road, and she was fair chokit wi' cryin', and when I cudna see her mair for the bush aboon the burn, I could aye hear her bleatin' like a lamb an' it was the gloamin'. An' I can fair hear her yet. Will ye no' ca' me Angus?"
Its closing words ran thus: "I send ye this picture o' masel' and the ane o' the man I loved sae weel. No ither picture have I had taken, nor ither shall there be. It was taken for yir faither before the gloamin' settled doon on you and me, ma laddie. It was taken for him, as was every breath I drew, for I loved him wi' every ane.
Now for a bogle story in the gloamin'! Ah, those bogle stories! They are answerable for a good deal in my life! They made me want to write bogle stories myself!" "And do you write them?" asked Mary. "Not exactly. Though perhaps all human life is only a bogle tale! Invented to amuse the angels!"
I did not like to present myself just then, for fear of alarming the dear girl too much, and then I did not dare to come here to-day till the gloamin'. I only arrived yesterday." "Weel, weel! The like o' this bates a'. Losh man! I hope it's no a dream. Nip me, man, to mak sure. Sit doon, sit doon, an' let's hear a' aboot it." The story was a long one.
"Thank ye kindly, Marget; thae are gude words and true, an' ye hev the richt tae say them; but a' canna dae without seem' Annie comin' tae meet me in the gloamin', an' gaein' in an' oot the hoose, an' hearin' her ca' me by ma name, an' a'll no can tell her that a'luve her when there's nae Annie in the hoose. "Can naethin' be dune, doctor?
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