we're a' happy thegither. Cheer up,
I say, man--what's the matter wi' ye?--care has a strange look on a
body's shouthers at seven or eight and twenty; and I dinna think ye can
be mair. I am on the wrang side o' three and thirty, and I would snap my
fingers at it, were it blawing its breath in my face as snell as a drift
on an open moor! Losh man! what ails ye? Ye would say I had met wi' a
friar in orders grey, lamenting owre the sins o' the world, and the
poverty o' his pocket, instead o' a young bang fellow like you, that's a
match for onybody. Come, here's to the health o' bonny Jenny Hewitt."

"With all my heart," said the stranger; and, pronouncing the name of the
fair maiden, quaffed off his liquor.

"Now, that's wiselike; there's some spirit in that," said Andrew,
following his example; "let's be merry while we can; that's aye my
creed. The ne'er a grain o' guid, as I used to say to my mother, comes
out o' melancholy. Let's hae a sang--I see you hae a singing face--or
I'll gie ye ane mysel, to mak a beginning."

So saying, with a voice like thunder broken into music, he sang as
follows:--

In our young, young days,
When the gowany braes
Were our temple o' joy and glee,
Some dour auld body would shake his head,
And tell us our gladness away would flee,
And our hearts beat as heavy as lead.
Stupid auld body--silly auld body--
His mother spained him wi' a canker-worm.
In our auld, auld days, the gowany braes
Are memory's rainbows owre time and storm.

In our proud young days,
When the gowany braes
Kenn'd the feet o' my love and me,
Some ill-matched carle would girn and say--
"Puir things! wi' a twalmonth's marriage, and ye
Will find love like a snaw-ba' decay."
Stupid auld carle--leein' auld carle--
His mother spained him wi' a canker-worm.
In our auld, auld days, like gowany braes,
Our love unchang'd, has its youthfu' form.

In our grey-haired days,
When the gowany braes
Are owre steep for our feet to climb--
When her back is bowed, and her lovely e'e,
Once bricht as a beam frae the sun, is dim--
She'll be still my bit lassie to me.
Stupid auld body--wicked auld body--
Love, like the gowan's a winter liver.
The smile o' a wife is the sun o' its life,
An' her bosom