My Boyhood and Youth 



pennies the young songbirds would bring and 

 the beer they would buy, while we all, sisters 

 and brothers, were crying and sobbing. I 

 remember, as if it happened this day, how my 

 heart fairly ached and choked me. Mother 

 put us to bed and tried to comfort us, telling us 

 that the little birds would be well fed and grow 

 big, and soon learn to sing in pretty cages ; but 

 again and again we rehearsed the sad story of 

 the poor bereaved birds and their frightened 

 children, and could not be comforted. Father 

 came into the room when we were half asleep 

 and still sobbing, and I heard mother telling 

 him that, "a' the bairns' hearts were broken 

 over the robbing of the nest in the elm." 



After attaining the manly, belligerent age of 

 five or six years, very few of my schooldays 

 passed without a fist fight, and half a dozen 

 was no uncommon number. When any class- 

 mate of our own age questioned our rank and 

 standing as fighters, we always made haste to 

 settle the matter at a quiet place on the Davel 

 Brae. To be a "gude fechter" was our highest 

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