“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.
[Musical notation omitted.]
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:—
[Musical score omitted]
“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.
“He will come back in a year, uncle,” she said, “and he will bring with him one of those bright-looking New York women, brains to the finger tips, nerves all over, with the most miraculously small feet, and costumes just as wonderful. Or it will be some large-eyed, slow-moving, long, lithe Southern girl who will look like a great white lily turned into a woman. I do not think seriously that Theodora has the slenderest chance of becoming Allan’s wife, and, would you believe it, uncle, I am honestly sorry for her?”
“I believe it, dear, if you say so; but I would not have expected it.”