iano or band. 'Deed, and there's one
song o' mine I always sing alone. It's "The Wee Hoose Amang the
Heather." And every time I appear, I think, there's some one asks for
that.

Whiles I think I've sung a song sae often everyone must be tired of
it. I'm fond o' that wee song masel', and it was aye John's favorite,
among all those in my repertory. But it seems I canna sing it often
enough, for more than once, when I've not sung it, the audience hasna
let me get awa' without it. I'll ha' gie'n as many encores as I
usually do; I'll ha' come back, maybe a score of times, and bowed. But
a' over the hoose I'll hear voices rising--Scots voices, as a rule.

"Gie's the wee hoose, Harry," they'll roar. And: "The wee hoose 'mang
the heather, Harry," I'll hear frae another part o' the hoose. It's
many years since I've no had to sing that song at every performance.

Sometimes I've been surprised at the way my audiences ha' received me.
There's toons in America where maist o' the folk will be foreigners--
places where great lots o' people from the old countries in Europe ha'
settled doon, and kept their ain language and their ain customs. In
Minnesota and Wisconsin there'll be whole colonies of Swedes, for
example. They're a fine, God fearing folk, and, nae doot, they've a
rare sense of humor o' their ain. But the older ones, sometimes, dinna
understand English tae well, and I feel, in such a place, as if it was
asking a great deal to expect them to turn oot to hear me.

And yet they'll come. I've had some of my biggest audiences in such
places, and some of my friendliest. I'll be sure, whiles I'm singing,
that they canna understand. The English they micht manage, but when I
talk a wee bit o' Scots talk, it's ayant them altogether. But they'll
laugh--they'll laugh at the way I walk, I suppose, and at the waggle
o' ma kilts. And they'll applaud and ask for mair. I think there's
usually a leaven o' Scots in sic a audience; just Scots enough so I'll
ha' a friend or twa before I start. And after that a's weel.

It's a great sicht to see the great crowds gather in a wee place
that's happened to be chosen for a performance or twa because there's
a theatre or a hall that's big enough. They'll come in their motor
cars; they'll come driving in behind a team o' horses; aye, and
there's some wull come on shanks' mare. And it's a sobering thing tae
think they're a' coming, a' those gude folk, tae hear me sing. You
canna do ought but tak' yo