In this rhyming direction there was one very curious point: when he began to turn over the various pieces that might be made available for Mr. Jaap, he was himself astonished to find how little melody there was in them. Whatever little musical faculty he had seemed to be all locked up in the love-verses he had written about Meenie. Many of the fragments had other qualities—homely common sense; patriotism; a great affection for dumb animals; here and there sometimes a touch of humour or pathos; but somehow they did not _sing_. It is true that the following piece— _SHOUTHER TO SHOUTHER._ _From Hudson’s Bay to the Rio Grand’,_ _The Scot is ever a rover;_ _In New South Wales and in Newfoundland,_ _And all the wide world over;_ _Chorus: But it’s shouther to shouther, my bonnie lads,_ _And let every Scot be a brither;_ _And we’ll work as we can, and we’ll win if we can,_ _For the sake of our auld Scotch mither._ _She’s a puir auld wife, wi’ little to give;_ _And she’s rather stint o’ caressing;_ _But she’s shown us how honest lives we may live,_ _And she’s sent us out wi’ her blessing._ _Chorus: And it’s shouther to shouther, etc._ _Her land’s no rick; and her crops are slim;_ _And I winna say much for the weather;_ _But she’s given us legs that can gaily clim’_ _Up the slopes o’ the blossoming heather._ _Chorus: And it’s shouther to shouther, etc._ _And she’s given us hearts that, whatever they say_ _(And I trow that we might be better)_ _There’s one sair fault they never will hae—_ _Our mither, we’ll never forget her!_ _Chorus: And it’s shouther to shouther, my bonnie lads,_ _And let every Scot be a brither;_ _And we’ll work as we can, and we’ll win if we can,_ _For the sake of our auld Scotch mither!_ had attained a great success at the Harmony Club; but that was merely because Mr. Jaap had managed to write for it an effective air, that could be easily caught up and sung in chorus; in itself there was no simple, natural ’lilt’ whatever. And then, again, in his epistolary rhymes to friends and acquaintances (alas! that was all over now) there were many obvious qualities, but certainly not the lyrical one. Here, for example, are some verses he had sent in former days to a certain Johnnie Pringle, living at Tongue, who had had his eye on a young lass down Loch Loyal way: _O Johnnie, leave the lass alane;_ _Her mother has but that one wean;_ _For a’ the others have been ta’en,_ _As weel ye ken, Johnnie._ _’Tis true her bonnie e’en would rive_ _The heart o’ any man alive;_ _And in the husry[#] she would thrive—_ _I grant ye that, Johnnie._ [#] ’Husry,’ housewifery. _But wad ye tak’ awa the lass,_ _I tell ye what would come to pass,_ _The mother soon would hae the grass_ _Boon her auld head, Johnnie._ _They’ve got some gear, and bit o’ land_ _That well would bear another hand;_ _Come down frae Tongue, and take your stand_ _By Loyal’s side, Johnnie!_