My Boyhood and Touth 



forget and disobey." Thus he warned us with 

 an awfully stern countenance, looking very 

 hard-hearted, while naturally his heart was 

 far from hard, though he devoutly believed in 

 eternal punishment for bad boys both here 

 and hereafter. Nevertheless, like devout mar- 

 tyrs of wildness, we stole away to the seashore 

 or the green, sunny fields with almost religious 

 regularity, taking advantage of opportunities 

 when father was very busy, to join our com- 

 panions, oftenest to hear the birds sing and 

 hunt their nests, glorying in the number we 

 had discovered and called our own. A sample 

 of our nest chatter was something like this: 

 Willie Chisholm would proudly exclaim — "I 

 ken (know) seventeen nests, and you, Johnnie, 

 ken only fifteen." 



"But I wouldna gie my fifteen for your sev- 

 enteen, for five of mine are larks and mavises. 

 You ken only three o' the best singers." 



"Yes, Johnnie, but I ken six goldies and you 

 ken only one. Maist of yours are only sparrows 

 and linties and robin-redbreasts." 

 [ 44 ] 



