ace upon him and upon
a godly hoose, and that he could but hope to forget that she had ever
lived. And he wished me good day and showed me the door.

I made such provision for the puir lassie as I could, and saw to it
that she should have gude advice. But she could no stand her troubles.
Had her faither stood by her--but, who kens, who kens? I only know
that a few weeks later I learned that she had drowned herself. I would
no ha' liked to be her faither when he learned that.

Thank God I ha' few such experiences as that to remember. But there's
a many that were more pleasant. I've made some o' my best friends in
my travels. And the noo, when the wife and I gang aboot the world,
there's good folk in almost every toon we come to to mak' us feel at
hame. I've ne'er been one to stand off and refuse to have ought to do
wi' the public that made me and keeps me. They're a' my friends, that
clap me in an audience, till they prove that they're no'--and
sometimes it's my best friends that seem to be unkindest to me!

There's no way better calculated to get a crowd aboot than to be
hurryin' through the streets o' London in a motor car and ha' a
breakdoon! I've been lucky as to that; I've ne'er been held up more
than ten minutes by such trouble, but it always makes me nervous when
onything o' the sort happens. I mind one time I was hurrying from the
Tivoli to a hall in the suburbs, and on the Thames Embankment
something went wrang.

I was worried for fear I'd be late, and I jumped oot to see what was
wrang. I clean forgot I was in the costume for my first song at the
new hall--it had been my last, tae, at the Tiv. I was wearin' kilt,
glengarry, and all the costume for the swab germ' corporal o'
Hielanders in "She's Ma Daisy." D'ye mind the song? Then ye'll ken hoo
I lookit, oot there on the Embankment, wi' the lichts shinin' doon on
me and a', and me dancin' aroond in a fever o' impatience to be off!

At once a crowd was aroond me--where those London crowds spring frae
I've ne'er been able to guess. Ye'll be bowlin' alang a dark, empty
street. Ye stop--and in a second they're all aboot ye. Sae it was that
nicht, and in no time they were all singin', if ye please! They sang
the choruses of my songs--each man, seemingly, picking a different
yin! Aye, it was comical--so comical it took my mind frae the delay.

CHAPTER XII

I was crackin' yin or twa the noo aboot them that touch ye for a
bawbee noo and then. I ken fine th