linger over certain lines of
poetry, it is because the love-instinct in your heart has withered to
ashes of roses. It is idle to imagine Bobby Burns as a staid member of the
Kirk; had he been so, there would now be no Bobby Burns. The literary
ebullition of Robert Burns (he himself has told us) began shortly after he
had reached the age of indiscretion; and the occasion was his being
paired in the hayfield, according to the Scottish custom, with a bonnie
lassie. This custom of pairing still endures, and is what the students of
sociology call an expeditious move. The Scotch are great economists--the
greatest in the world. Adam Smith, the father of the science of economics,
was a Scotchman; and Draper, author of "A History of Civilization," flatly
declares that Adam Smith's "Wealth of Nations" has influenced the people
of Earth for good more than any other book ever written--save none.

The Scotch are great conservators of energy.

The practise of pairing men and women in the hayfield gets the work done.
One man and one woman going down the grass-grown path afield might linger
and dally by the way. They would never make hay, but a company of a dozen
or more men and women would not only reach the field, but do a lot of
work. In Scotland the hay-harvest is short--when the grass is in bloom,
just right to make the best hay, it must be cut. And so the men and women,
the girls and boys, sally forth. It is a jolly picnic-time, looked forward
to with fond anticipation, and after recalled with sweet, sad memories, or
otherwise, as the case may be.

But they all make hay while the sun shines, and count it joy. Liberties
are allowed during haying-time that otherwise would be declared
scandalous; during haying-time the Kirk waives her censor's right, and
priest and people mingle joyously. Wives are not jealous during
hay-harvest, and husbands never faultfinding, because they each get even
by allowing a mutual license. In Scotland during haying-time every married
man works alongside of some other man's wife. To the psychologist it is
somewhat curious how the desire for propriety is overridden by a stronger
desire--the desire for the shilling. The Scotch farmer says, "Anything to
get the hay in"--and by loosening a bit the strict bands of social custom,
the hay is harvested.

In the hay-harvest the law of natural selection holds; partners are often
arranged for weeks in advance; and trysts continue year after year. Old
lovers meet,