nard's. I do not mean the house you mean. I am
a Knox man. But little will that avail, for M'Connachie is a
Queen Mary man. So, after all, it is at her door we chap, a last
futile effort to bring that woman to heel. One more house of call,
a student's room, also in South Street. I have chosen my student,
you see, and I have chosen well; him that sang--

'Life has not since been wholly vain,
And now I bear
Of wisdom plucked from joy and pain
Some slender share.

'But howsoever rich the store,
I'd lay it down
To feel upon my back once more
The old red gown.'

Well, we have at last come to an end. Some of you may remember
when I began this address; we are all older now. I thank you for
your patience. This is my first and last public appearance,
and I never could or would have made it except to a gathering
of Scottish students. If I have concealed my emotions in addressing
you it is only the thrawn national way that deceives everybody
except Scotsmen. I have not been as dull as I could have wished
to be; but looking at your glowing faces cheerfulness and hope would
keep breaking through. Despite the imperfections of your betters we
leave you a great inheritance, for which others will one day call
you to account. You come of a race of men the very wind of whose
name has swept to the ultimate seas. Remember--

'Heaven doth with us as we with torches do,
Not light them for themselves. . . .'

Mighty are the Universities of Scotland, and they will prevail.
But even in your highest exultations never forget that they are
not four, but five. The greatest of them is the poor, proud
homes you come out of, which said so long ago: 'There shall be
education in this land.' She, not St. Andrews, is the oldest
University in Scotland, and all the others are her whelps.

In bidding you good-bye, my last words must be of the lovely
virtue. Courage, my children and 'greet the unseen with a cheer.'
'Fight on, my men,' said Sir Andrew Barton. Fight on--you--
for the old red gown till the whistle blows.

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