"I am shamefully ill-tempered, uncle. I am afraid I am growing bad, and I

cannot make up my mind to get any more good from Dr. MacDonald. When

ministers want to snub women, they always quote St. Paul. Now, I do not

believe any wrong of St. Paul. I have an idea that he was a perfect

gentleman, and rather polite to our sex."

"They quote his own words, my dear."

"They quote, as they have transposed and transformed them. I think if a

woman had translated that particular passage, it might have been less

pleasant for Dr. MacDonald to quote."

"Nevermind Dr. MacDonald to-night, dearie. Sing us a few words of Robert

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Burns. It would be an ill heart that could not get cheery in his company.

I bought the bonniest likeness of him yesterday. What a handsome lad he

was!"

"I always fancy he must have looked like Joseph. The Talmud says all the

women in Egypt loved Joseph. I am sure everybody, young and old, make

their hearts over to Robert Burns.

There was a lad was born in Kyle,

But whatnaday, o' whatna style,

I doubt its hardly worth our while

To be sae nice wi' Robin.

For Robin was a

rovin boy, A rantin', rovin', rantin', rovin',

Robin was a rovin' boy, O ran-tin', rov-in', Robin!

Our monarch's hindmost year but ane

Was five and twenty days began;

'Twas then a blast o' Januar' win'

Blew hansel in on Robin.

For Robin was, etc.

The gossip keekit in his loof,

Quo' she, wha lives will see the proof,

This waly boy will be nae coof;

I think we'll ca' him Robin.

For Robin was, etc.

He'll hae misfortunes great and sma',

But aye a heart aboon them a',

He'll be a credit till us a'

We'll a' be proud o' Robin.

For Robin was, etc."

Half an hour's song put both in cheerful temper, and when Mary said, "Now,

uncle, we must stop, because I want to take the first boat to-morrow," the

dear old man went gayly off, singing:

"Then up in the morning's no' for me,

Up in the morning early;

I'd rather gang supper-less to my bed,

Than rise in the morning early.

"Up in the morning's no' for me,

Up in the morning early,

I'd rather gang supperless to my bed,

Than rise in the morning early,"

and he was as proud and pleased with the apropos quotation, as if he had

written it himself.

John Campbell's city house was one of the handsomest of the many handsome

mansions in Blytheswood Square; and there the principal treasures of his

home life were gathered: silver, paintings, furniture, books, as well as

the mementoes which had come to him from past generations. He had expected

Allan to spend the winter at home, and made many extensive changes in view

of the company which the young people would probably desire. When Mary

entered the house, she turned a face of astonishment and delight upon her

uncle. Everywhere the utmost richness and luxury of appointment were

manifest, and over her piano hung the painting of the beaming Robert

Burns, for which Campbell had just paid £500. He had intended to surprise

his niece, and he had his full measure of thanks in her unaffected

pleasure. It was a happy home-coming, and as they sat together that night,

Mary tried to inspire the father's heart with her own hopes in regard to

Allan's future.




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