Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-12-28
BY WILLIAM BL ACK
CHAPTER XVI.
WRITTEN FOR THE DISPATCH.

periods of languor and exhaustion, with low
meanings and mutterings quite unin-
telligible to the patient watchers, he would
fame up into something like his former
self, and his speech would bt come eager and
voluble, and almost consecutive. 1t was IN
those intervals that he showed himself
proud of his recovered memory again and
again they could hear him repeat the lines
that for time had iaff1ed him
How sweet to roam by Allander, to breathe the
bamy air,
When cioadless are the summer skies, and
woods and fields are fair;
To see the skylark soaring high, and chanting
on the wing
While in yon woods near Calder hirk the WILD
birds sweetly sing.
He was busy with the new book-choosing
and arranging; and Maisrie. as his amanu-
ensis, jottei down memoranda as to the
poets to be included, and the pieces most
characteristic of them. For he was not to be
pacified into silence and acquiescence-In
these clearer moods. There was hurry, he
said Some one else might step in. And he
cross-examined Vincent about the quota
tions that Hugh Anstruther had made at the
Burns celebration in New York.
Il hardly remember" Vincent answered
him. "There were good many. But there
was one piece l thought rather pathetic-I
don't recall the name Of it-but 1t was about
a little pair OF shoes-the mother thinking of
her dead child.
..What?-what?" said the old man,
o.rick1v. mot Ja~es Smiths? Not The
Wee Pair O. ShoOn'?"
Nell, yes, think that was the title"
said Vincent.
! II
into the sick mans ewes; he was laborlng
with his memorv-and Maisrie saw it.
Never mind, grandfather; never mind
just now; if you want il, I'll write TO Mr..
Anstruther Tor il. See, l will put it down
in the list; and I'll send for it; and it will
be back here in plenty OF time"
But l know 1t quite well!' he said, fret
fully. The last verse anyway"
To, eastlln wind blaws cauld, Jamie
The snaw's on bill and plain
He repeated those two lines over and over
again, with half-shut eyes; and then all at
once ne went on with the remainder:
The flowers that decked my lammie's grave
Ara faded moo. an gone!
o, di ma speak! l ken she dwells
In yon fair land aboon;
But salts the sicht that blin's my e'e-
That wee, wee pair o. shoon.
There was kind of proud look in his
face as be finished.
"Yes, yes; it's fine thing to have a good
memory-and 1 owe that to my iather-he
said there never was minute in the day
that need be wasted-you could always re-
neat to yourself q verse of the Psalms of
David. think the first word OF approval
ever got from him-ye see Maisrie, we
were brought up under strict government in
those davs-was when / repeated the CXlX
Psalm-the whole % parts-with hardly
mistake Aud what a talisman to carry
about with ye-on the deck of a steamer
on Lake Ontario-in the night-with the
stars overhead-then the XLVL. Psalm
comes into your mind-you are back in
Scotland-you see the small church, and
boxed In pews-the men and women stand
ing up to sing-the men all in black-I
wonder if they have Ballerma in the Scotch
churches now-and dDrumclog-and New st.
AIMS"
He shut his eyes-those unnaturally bril-
liant eyes-for a second or so; but the next
second they were open and alert again.
1.-The book, Maisrie-the hook-are you
getting on ?-no delay-no delay-in case
someone should step in. Have you THE
Bush aboon Traquair ?'-not the old one
that was on eighteenth century stilts-but
Shairp's-and well l know the very spot
where 1t was written
At the bush aboon Traquair,
Or what did you hear was worth your heedf
heard the CUISINES Groom,
Through the gowden afternoon,
And QUAR- burn singiu' doom to the vale o.
Tweed
Eyes, yes; we'll 1 remember it." he con-
tinued, more absently. But 1 have had
my last look. 1 will see 1t no moreno
more. You, Maisrie, you will 60 there
your young husband will take you there"
Grandfather, we will all go there toge-
ther % said Maisrie, pteously.
And both of you," the old man went on,
paying no attention TO her, for he was ap-
parently gazing at some distant thing, "both
OF you are young, and light OF step-and
light of heart, which is still better-well,
well, my lass, perhaps not so light OF heart
as might be at your years-but all that will
change for you-and think when YOU are
up at the burn o Quair-you will find it
in your miud-to cross the Minch Moor to
Yarrow Water. Newark Castle you will
see-then you will turn to 60 down to Var
row Vale-but not with any sad heart, Mais-
rie-I forbid ye that-it's beautiful place,
Yarrow, though it had its tragedies and sor-
rows in the olden time-and you-you are
young-you have lie before you-and [ tell
We 1t is with light and glad neart YOU must
60 down the Yarrow Vale. Why, lass,
you'll come to Mt Benger-you'u come
to Dryhope Tower-youll come to Altriye
and st. Mary's Loch-and Tibby Shiels'
and the Loeb O. the Lows-and Chapel
hope-but mind ye now-if it's bad weather
we're not to come running awav, and al
together mistaking the place-ve'u inst
stop at Tibbie Shiels' until it clears And
then be added, in a wistiuI kind of way: "I
once had thoughts-of taking ye there my
self, Maisrie.''
And so you will, grandfather" she
pleaded.
No moreno more" he said, as il not
needing her. "And why should a young
lite be clouded?-the two of them-they'il
be fine company for each other-when
they're waDdering-along by the side of
Iarrow Water" But here he recalled him.
sell; and would have Maisrie sit down again
10 mat list; in order that the book might be
pushed rapidly forward.
1t was on this same evening that DR..
Lenzie, on arriving to pay his accustomed
visit, went into the little parlor and sent for
Vincent Vincent came down stairs.
DO you see that?" said he, holding out
book that was i'll his hand.
Vincent took the volume from him and
glanced at the title-Recent and Living
Scottish Poets, by A. G. Murdoch. He
WIS not in the least astonIshed-but he was
angry and indignant
Very well, said he, "what of it? Do
you mean to say you are going to yex au
old man, who may be on his death-bed. by
bringing charges of plagiarism against him.
dare say Mr.. Bethune never saw the book,
or, if be has seen it, he has forgotten it."
i precelve We do not understand" said
the little doctor, without taking offense.
when L came to know what undertaking
A IL. u