y, described me as having been born
"with two rows of teeth and holes punched for more," so insatiable was
my appetite for new works and increased production. As I was the first
child in our immediate family circle, there were plenty of now
venerable relatives begging to be allowed to play nurse, my aunties
among them. Many of my childhood pranks and words they told me in
their old age. One of them that the aunties remembered struck me as
rather precocious.

I had been brought up upon wise saws and one that my father had taught
me was soon given direct application. As a boy, returning from the
seashore three miles distant, he had to carry me part of the way upon
his back. Going up a steep hill in the gloaming he remarked upon the
heavy load, hoping probably I would propose to walk a bit. The
response, however, which he received was:

"Ah, faither, never mind, patience and perseverance make the man, ye
ken."

He toiled on with his burden, but shaking with laughter. He was hoist
with his own petard, but his burden grew lighter all the same. I am
sure of this.

My home, of course, was with my instructor, guide, and inspirer, Uncle
Lauder--he who had done so much to make me romantic, patriotic, and
poetical at eight. Now I was twenty-seven, but Uncle Lauder still
remained Uncle Lauder. He had not shrunk, no one could fill his place.
We had our walks and talks constantly and I was "Naig" again to him.
He had never had any name for me but that and never did have. My dear,
dear uncle, and more, much more than uncle to me.[23]

[Footnote 23: "This uncle, who loved liberty because it is the
heritage of brave souls, in the dark days of the American Civil War
stood almost alone in his community for the cause which Lincoln
represented." (Hamilton Wright Mabie in _Century Magazine_, vol. 64,
p. 958.)]

I was still dreaming and so excited that I could not sleep and had
caught cold in the bargain. The natural result of this was a fever. I
lay in uncle's house for six weeks, a part of that time in a critical
condition. Scottish medicine was then as stern as Scottish theology
(both are now much softened), and I was bled. My thin American blood
was so depleted that when I was pronounced convalescent it was long
before I could stand upon my feet. This illness put an end to my
visit, but by the time I had reached America again, the ocean voyage
had done me so much good I was able to resume work.

I remember being deeply affected