“But I canna see that they’re ony better than their grandfaithers were at the same age. Except my good-dochter’s boy Alick, I think they’re a’ worse. “A’ the difference seems to be that they’re auld sooner than we were, smoke sooner, and swear sooner, and in a hunner wyes need mair leatherin’ than we did. Education o’ the heid’s no’ education o’ the hert, and the only thing that comes frae crammin’ a callant o’ naiturally bad disposeetion with book-learnin’ is that he’s the better trained for swindlin’ his fellow-men when he’s auld enough to try his hand at it. I wad be awfu’ prood o’ every new school that’s in Gleska if I didna ken that I had to pye a polis tax for’t by-and-bye as weel as school tax.” “How glad we ought to be, Erchie, that we were born in a more virtuous age,” I said, and Erchie screwed up his face. “We werena,” said he. “It’s aye been the same since the start o’ things. I’ve jist been sayin’ to ye whit I mind o’ hearin’ my faither say to mysel’. There’ll aye be jist enough rogues in the world to keep guid folk like you and me frae gettin’ awfu’ sick o’ each ither.” XXI THE FOLLIES OF FASHION |My old friend has a great repugnance to donning new clothes. His wife Jinnet told me once she had always to let him get into a new suit, as it were, on the instalment system: the first Sunday he reluctantly put on the trousers; the second he ventured the trousers and waistcoat; and on the third he courageously went forth in the garb complete, after looking out at the close-mouth first to see that Duffy or any other ribald and critical acquaintance was not looking. I saw a tell-tale crease down the front of the old man’s legs yesterday. “New sartorial splendour, Erchie?” I said, and pinched him for luck. He got very red. “You’re awfu’ gleg in the een,” said he; “am I no’ daein’ my best to let on they’re an auld pair cleaned? Blame the wife for’t! there’s naethin’ o’ the la-di-da aboot easy-gaun Erchie. But weemen! claes is their hale concern since the day that Adam’s wife got the shape o’ a sark frae the deevil, and made if wi’ a remender o’ fig-leafs. “There’s no much wrang wi’ Jinnet, but she’s far ower pernicketty aboot whit her and me puts on, and if she has naething else to brag aboot she’ll brag I hae aye the best-brushed buits in oor kirk. She took an awfu’ thraw yince at yin o’ the elders, for she thocht he bate me wi’ the polish o’ his buits, and she could hardly sleep ower the heid o’t till I tellt her they were patent. “‘Och!’ says she, ‘is that a’? Patent’s no’ in the game.’ “‘Onything’s in the game,’ says I to her, ‘that’s chaper nor heeling and soling.’