Sometimes Mr. Wilson would ask me to go home with him after school, and take supper. This made me late, but my father did not mind it, for he liked me to be with Mr. Wilson. I learned a good deal from him at such times. He had an excellent little library, and would take down his favourite books and read me passages. It is wonderful how things which, in reading for ourselves, we might pass over in a half-blind manner, gain their true power and influence through the voice of one who sees and feels what is in them. If a man in whom you have confidence merely lays his finger on a paragraph and says to you, “Read that,” you will probably discover three times as much in it as you would if you had only chanced upon it in the course of your reading. In such case the mind gathers itself up, and is all eyes and ears. But Mr. Wilson would sometimes read me a few verses of his own; and this was a delight such as I have rarely experienced. My reader may wonder that a full-grown man and a good scholar should condescend to treat a boy like me as so much of an equal; but sympathy is precious even from a child, and Mr. Wilson had no companions of his own standing. I believe he read more to Turkey than to me, however. As I have once apologized already for the introduction of a few of his verses with Scotch words in them, I will venture to try whether the same apology will not cover a second offence of the same sort. JEANIE BRAW[1] I like ye weel upo’ Sundays, Jeanie, In yer goon an’ yer ribbons gay; But I like ye better on Mondays, Jeanie, And I like ye better the day.[2] [Footnote 1: Brave; well dressed.]. [Footnote 2: To-day.] For it _will_ come into my heid, Jeanie, O’ yer braws[1] ye are thinkin’ a wee; No’ a’ o’ the Bible-seed, Jeanie, Nor the minister nor me. [Footnote 1: Bravery; finery.] And hame across the green, Jeanie, Ye gang wi’ a toss o’ yer chin: Us twa there’s a shadow atween, Jeanie, Though yer hand my airm lies in. But noo, whan I see ye gang, Jeanie, Busy wi’ what’s to be dune, Liltin’ a haveless[2] sang, Jeanie, I could kiss yer verra shune. [Footnote 2: Careless.] Wi’ yer silken net on yer hair, Jeanie, In yer bonny blue petticoat, Wi’ yer kindly airms a’ bare, Jeanie, On yer verra shadow I doat. For oh! but ye’re eident[3] and free, Jeanie, Airy o’ hert and o’ fit[4]; There’s a licht shines oot o’ yer ee, Jeanie; O’ yersel’ ye thinkna a bit. [Footnote 3: Diligent.] [Footnote 4: Foot.] Turnin’ or steppin’ alang, Jeanie, Liftin’ an’ layin’ doon, Settin’ richt what’s aye gaein’ wrang, Jeanie, Yer motion’s baith dance an’ tune. Fillin’ the cogue frae the coo, Jeanie, Skimmin’ the yallow cream, Poorin’ awa’ the het broo, Jeanie, Lichtin’ the lampie’s leme[5]-- [Footnote 5: Flame.] I’ the hoose ye’re a licht an’ a law, Jeanie, A servant like him that’s abune: Oh! a woman’s bonniest o’ a’, Jeanie, Whan she’s doin’ what _maun_ be dune.