'Ay, a Hamilton frae Moss End. But I'm taking the play. Ma auld tittie has dee'd and left me some siller,' Merton dragged a handful of dirty notes out of his trousers pocket. 'I've been to see the auld Bowers, but Lairdie was on the shift.' 'And ye're ganging to Embro?' 'When we cam' into Embro Toon We were a seemly sicht to see; Ma luve was in the-- I dinna mind what ma luve was in-- 'And I ma'sel in cramoisie,' sang Merton, who had the greatest fear of being asked local questions about Moss End and Motherwell. 'I dinna ken what cramoisie is, ma'sel',' he added. 'Hae a drink!' 'Man, ye're a bonny singer,' said the rough, who, hitherto, had taken no hand in the conversation. 'Ma faither was a precentor,' said Merton, and so, in fact, Mr. Merton _pere_ had, for a short time, been--of Salisbury Cathedral. They were approaching Portobello, where Merton rushed to the window, thrust half of his body out and indulged in the raucous and meaningless yells of the festive artisan. Thus he tided over a rather prolonged wait, but, when the train moved on, the inquiring rough returned to the charge. He was suspicious, and also was drunk, and obstinate with all the brainless obstinacy of intoxication. 'Aw 'm sayin',' he remarked to Merton, 'you're no Lairdie Bower.' 'Hear till the man! Aw 'm Tammy Hamilton, o' Moss End in Lanerick. Aw 'm ganging to see ma Jean. 'For day or night Ma fancy's flight Is ever wi' ma Jean-- Ma bonny, bonny, flat-footed Jean,' sang Merton, gliding from the strains of Robert Burns into those of Mr. Boothby. 'Jean's a Lanerick wumman,' he added, 'she's in service in the Pleasance. Aw 'm ganging to my Jo. Ye'll a' hae Jos, billies?' 'Aw 'm sayin',' the intoxicated rough persisted, 'ye're no a Lanerick man. Ye're the English gentleman birkie that cam' to Kirkburn yestreen. Or else ye're ane o' the polis' (police). '_Me_ ane o' the polis! Aw 'm askin' the company, _div_ a look like a polisman? _Div_ a look like an English birkie, or ane o' the gentry?' The other passengers, decent people, thus appealed to, murmured negatives, and shook their heads. Merton certainly did not resemble a policeman, an Englishman, or a gentleman. 'Ye see naebody lippens to ye,' Merton went on. 'Man, if we were na a' freens, a wad gie ye a jaud atween yer twa een! But ye've been drinking. Tak anither sook!' The rough did not reject the conciliatory offer. 'The whiskey's low,' said Merton, holding up the bottle to the light, 'but there's mair at Embro' station.' They were now drawing up at the station. Merton floundered out, threw his arms round the necks of each of the roughs, yelled to their companions in the next carriage to follow, and staggered into the third- class refreshment room. Here he leaned against the counter and feebly ogled the attendant nymph. 'Ma lonny bassie, a mean ma bonny lassie,' he said, 'gie's five gills, five o' the Auld Kirk' (whisky).