ad"? I could
hear (all in my daydream in yon place of dingy benches) the old women
about the well at the town Cross say, "Oh _laochain!_ thou art come back
from the Galldach, and Glascow College; what a thousand curious things
thou must know, and what wisdom thou must have, but never a change on
thine affability to the old and to the poor!" But it was not till I had
run away from Glascow College, and shut the boards for good and all, as
I thought, on my humane letters and history, and gone with cousin Gavin
to the German wars in Mackay's Corps of true Highlanders, that I added a
manlier thought to my thinking of the day when I should come home to
my native place. I've seen me in the camp at night, dog-wearied after
stoury marching on their cursed foreign roads, keeping my eyes open and
the sleep at an arm's-length, that I might think of Shira Glen. Whatever
they may say of me or mine, they can never deny but I had the right fond
heart for my own countryside, and I have fought men for speaking of its
pride and poverty--their ignorance, their folly!--for what did they ken
of the Highland spirit? I would be lying in the lap of the night, and
my Ferrara sword rolled in my plaid as a pillow for my head, fancying
myself--all those long wars over, march, siege, and sack--riding on a
good horse down the pass of Aora and through the arches into the old
town. Then, it was not the fishermen or the old women I thought of,
but the girls, and the winking stars above me were their eyes, glinting
merrily and kindly on a stout young gentleman soldier with jack and
morion, sword at haunch, spur at heel, and a name for bravado never a
home-biding laird in our parish had, burgh or landward. I would sit on
my horse so, the chest well out, the back curved, the knees straight,
one gauntlet off to let my white hand wave a salute when needed, and
none of all the pretty ones would be able to say Elrigmore thought
another one the sweetest Oh! I tell you we learnt many arts in the
Lowland wars, more than they teach Master of Art in the old biggin' in
the Hie Street of Glascow.

One day, at a place called Nordlingen near the Mid Franken, binding
a wound Gavin got in the sword-arm, I said, "What's your wish at this
moment, cousin?"

He looked at me with a melting eye, and the flush hove to his face.

"'Fore God, Colin," said he, "I would give my twelve months' wage to
stand below the lintel of my mother's door and hear her say 'Darling
scamp!'"