And he had gowd to spend and spare,
And a heart as true as ony;
But's luik was doon, and his sigh was sair,
For Lizzie was sae bonny!
O Lizzie, Lizzie, bonny hizzie!
Ye've turned the daylicht dreary.
Ye're straucht and rare, ye're fause and fair--
Hech! auld John Armstrong's dearie!"
His voice was mellow, and ought to have been even. His expression was
perfect.
The kettle was boiling. Mr Cupples made his toddy, and resumed his
story.
"As sune's I was able, I left my mither greitin'--God bless her!--and
cam to this toon, for I wasna gaein' to be eaten up with idleset as
weel's wi' idolatry. The first thing I tuik till was teachin'. Noo
that's a braw thing, whan the laddies and lassies want to learn, and
hae questons o' their ain to speir. But whan they dinna care, it's the
verra deevil. Or lang, a'thing grew grey. I cared for naething and
naebody. My verra dreams gaed frae me, or cam only to torment me, wi'
the reid hert o' them changed to yallow and grey.
"Weel, ae nicht I had come hame worn oot wi' warstlin' to gar bairns
eat that had no hunger, I spied upo' the table a bottle o' whusky. A
frien' o' mine--a grocer he was--had sent it across the street to me,
for it was hard upo' Hogmanay.
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