A Boyhood in Scotland 



concerned, of half a slice of white bread without 

 butter, barley scone, and warm water with a 

 little milk and sugar in it, a beverage called 

 "content," which warmed but neither cheered 

 nor inebriated. Immediately after tea we ran 

 across the street with our books to Grandfather 

 Gilrye, who took pleasure in seeing us and hear- 

 ing us recite our next day's lessons. Then back 

 home to supper, usually a boiled potato and 

 piece of barley scone. Then family worship, 

 and to bed. 



Our amusements on Saturday afternoons 

 and vacations depended mostly on getting 

 away from home into the country, especially 

 in the spring when the birds were calling 

 loudest. Father sternly forbade David and me 

 from playing truant in the fields with plunder- 

 ing wanderers like ourselves, fearing we might 

 go on from bad to worse, get hurt in climbing 

 over walls, caught by gamekeepers, or lost by 

 falling over a cliff into the sea. "Play as much 

 as you like in the back yard and garden," he 

 said, "and mind what you'll get when you 

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