"Heigho!" the Corporal would say, as he paused in his excitement, "it's growing a dream already, Adam! There's no mony I can speak tae aboot these auld times;--no' auld to you and me. Folks' heads are taen up w' naething but getting money oot o' the peace we helped to get for the kintra: and little thanks for a' we did--little thanks, little thanks, atweel!" the Corporal would ejaculate in a die-away murmur.
But this was not a time to complain, but to rouse--not to pile arms, but to fire. And so the Corporal said, "Did I tell ye o' the sang made by Sandie Tamson? Ye'll mind Sandie weel--the schulemaster that listed? A maist clever chiel!"
"I mind him fine," said the Sergeant. "Curious eneuch, it was me that listed him! I hae heard a hantle o' his sangs."
"But no' this ane," said Dick, "for he made it--at least he said sae--for our auld Colonel in Perth. It seems Sandie, puir fallow, took to drink--or rather ne'er gied it ower--and sae he cam' beggin' in a kin' o' private genteel way, ye ken, to the Colonel; and when he got siller he wrote this sang for him. He gied me a copy for half-a-crown. I'll let ye hear 't--altho' my pipe is no sae guid as yer Sterlin's."
As the Corporal cleared his voice, the Sergeant lifted the nightcap from his ear, and said, "Sing awa'."
Dost thou remember, soldier, old and hoary,
The days we fought and conquered side by side,
On fields of battle famous now in story,
Where Britons triumphed, and where Britons died?
Dost thou remember all our old campaigning,