"Why, there is James Thomson, a working man, who makes, upon an average, say eighteen pence or a couple of shillings sterling (fifty cents) daily, through the year. He has a wife and four children. He built himself a kind of stone and turf cottage on the edge of one of Lord B.'s plantations, with a but and a ben,[161] and a little out-house. One day I called in to see him about one of his children, and, in the course of conversation, asked him how he got along." [Footnote 161: Two apartments.] "Brawly;"[162] was the reply. [Footnote 162: Finely.] "Can you make 'the twa ends meet' at the close of the year?" "Yes," said he, "and something mair than that. Last Candlemas I laid up nae less than ten and saxpence." "But how can you do it. Have you any land to cultivate?" "A wee bittock," was the answer, "but it's graund for taties and turnips." "Have you a cow?" "O aye, we have a coo, and a gude coo she is." "Well, what have you for victuals?" "The best o' parritch and milk in the morning, and at nicht. And as for denner, we ha' nae great variety, but what's wholesome eneuch. And ye ken, Dominie C., that hunger's the best sauce." "True enough, but excuse me, I should like to know what you generally have for dinner." "Ou," said he, laughing, "the graundest kail i' the world, made o' barley, butter and vegetables, wi' a bit o' beef, or a marrow bane in't once in a while, and mealy tatties, scones and cakes, the very best in the kintra!" "Well, you're content!" "To be sure we are! and gratefu', besides, to the Giver o' a' gude." "But you have a little pinch occasionally--in the cold and stormy winter weather?" "Why ye-s--but it's nae mair than a body may expeck, and it's a great deal less than we deserve. For mysel' I ha' nae great reason to complain, but Sandy Wilson, ower the way, has had a sair time on't." "What's the matter?" "Why, ye see, Sandy is no very able-bodied, and maybe a little shiftless, and he fell sick about the middle o' winter. His wife is a proud kind o' body, and she said naething to the neebors, and I jalouse they had a sair pinching time on't. The wee bit lassie seemed to be dwining awa', and Sandy, puir fellow, was just at death's door. But the minister o' the parish found it out, and Sandy was soon provided for. Hech sir! we ought to be thankfu' that we hae our health. It's a great blessing. For if a man only has health and a clear conscience he needna fear famine or the deevil." "Sandy then got over his troubles, did he?"