ars--hoo could he mak' them convincing to her?

And it was sae different wi' Jamie; he'd ne'er wasted his treasure o'
love, and thrown a wee bit here and a wee bit there. He had it a' to
lay at the feet o' his true love, and there was little doot in ma
mind, when I saw hoo things were gae'in, o' what the end on't wad be.
And, sure enow, it was no Andy, the graceful, the popular one, who
married her--it was the puir, salt Jamie, who'd saved the siller o'
his love--and, by the way, he'd saved the ither sort o' siller, tae,
sae that he had a grand little hoose to tak' his bride into, and a
hoose well furnished, and a' paid for, too.

Aye, I'll no be denyin' the Scot is a close fisted man. But he's close
fisted in more ways than one. Ye'll ca' a man close fisted and mean by
that just that he's slow to open his fist to let his siller through
it. But doesna the closed fist mean more than that when you come to
think on't? Gie'n a man strike a blow wi' the open hand--it'll cause
anger, maybe a wee bit pain. But it's the man who strikes wi' his fist
closed firm who knocks his opponent doon. Ask the Germans what they
think o' the close fisted Scots they've met frae ane end o' France to
the other!

And the Scot wull aye be slow to part wi' his siller. He'll be wanting
to know why and hoo comes it he should be spending his bawbees. But
he'll be slow to part wi' other things, too. He'll keep his
convictions and his loyalty as he keeps his cash. His love will no be
lyin' in his open palm for the first comer to snatch awa'. Sae wull it
be, tae, wi' his convictions. He had them yesterday; he keeps them to-
day; they'll still be his to-morrow.

Aye, the Scott'll be a close fisted, hard man--a strang man, tae, an'
one for ye to fear if you're his enemy, but to respect withal, and to
trust. Ye ken whaur the man stands who deals wi' his love and his
friends and his siller as does the Scot. And ne'er think ye can fash
him by callin' him mean.

Wull it sound as if I were boastin' if I talk o' what Scots did i' the
war? What British city was it led the way, in proportion to its
population, in subscribing to the war loans? Glasga, I'm tellin' ye,
should ye no ken for yersel'. And ye'll no be needing me to tell ye
hoo Scotland poured out her richest treasure, the blood of her sons,
when the call came. The land that will spend lives, when the need
arises, as though they were water, is the land that men ha' called
mean and close! God pity t