rtalized in his
poetry. There wuz a high clock like the one that told him the hours,
anxious hours, weary hours, happy hours, hours radiant with the poet's
inspiration. Despairin' hours full of anxiety and dread for the wife and
children he loved. It told the hours of day and night too, for Robert
did love what he called a good time, and I presoom Bonnie Jean read the
face of that old clock with anxiety and weariness writ in her own face
when the small hours struck and her Robbie wuz away with gay companions.

And with what despairin' grief did she read its calm old face while her
poet writ this sad truth:

"I'm wearin' awa' to the Land o' the Leal."

And there wuz a cupboard with blue and white dishes and a sugar bowl
that he and Bonnie Jean had used. Oh, warm fingers, tired fingers! how
long you've been dust, and the little piece of metal still endures. Oh,
my soul! the wonder and the pity on't.

There are chairs, tables, spinning wheel, etc., similar to those that
were in the Burns cottage. But there is a reel that wuz used by Bonnie
Jean herself, I took holt on't tryin' to bring to my mind what emotions
she had time and agin as she reeled her threads on and off, love,
anxiety, ambition, fear, hopes and sorrows; how they twined and ontwined
in her faithful breast as the reel turned, emotions stilled long ago,
long ago.

And there wuz the very griddle and toaster with which Bonnie Jean
toasted the bread for her Robbie. Many and many a time her heart, I
presoom to say seemin' to git seared in the burnin' fires of jealousy
whilst the bread wuz toastin'. For Robert wuz a man of many fancies, and
though a wife through pride or affection may seem blind to such things,
yet burns will smart and "jealousy is as cruel as the grave."

But many a time also whilst she toasted her bread her heart would bound
with joy and pride thinkin' of some triumph the man she loved had won,
or rememberin' some words of love and appreciation he had whispered in
her ear, which made the dark world over in a minute into a bright one,
for wimmen's hearts beat the same in Ayr or Jonesville, and Bonnie Jean
wuz proud of her poet lover and loved him. And he loved her the biggest
heft of the time, and mebby all the time; men are queer in such things
and their ways past findin' out.

'Tennyrate my heart bent in homage to his genius and his bravely borne
poverty and sufferin'. And I wished, oh, how I wished that some of the
pride and honor shower