to my bed. Macnab says his prayers, and I have a tune on the flute, and
the principle is just the same.'

So that singular evening closed with music--very sweet and true
renderings of old Border melodies like 'My Peggy is a young thing', and
'When the kye come hame'. I fell asleep with a vision of Amos, his face
all puckered up at the mouth and a wandering sentiment in his eye,
recapturing in his dingy world the emotions of a boy.

* * * * *

The widow-woman from next door, who acted as house-keeper, cook, and
general factotum to the establishment, brought me shaving water next
morning, but I had to go without a bath. When I entered the kitchen I
found no one there, but while I consumed the inevitable ham and egg,
Amos arrived back for breakfast. He brought with him the morning's
paper.

'The _Herald_ says there's been a big battle at Eepers,' he announced.

I tore open the sheet and read of the great attack of 31 July which was
spoiled by the weather. 'My God!' I cried. 'They've got St Julien and
that dirty Frezenberg ridge ... and Hooge ... and Sanctuary Wood. I
know every inch of the damned place....'

'Mr Brand,' said a warning voice, 'that'll never do. If our friends
last night heard ye talk like that ye might as well tak the train back
to London ... They're speakin' about ye in the yards this morning.
ye'll get a good turnout at your meeting the night, but they're Sayin'
that the polis will interfere. That mightna be a bad thing, but I trust
ye to show discretion, for ye'll not be muckle use to onybody if they
jyle ye in Duke Street. I hear Gresson will be there with a fraternal
message from his lunatics in America ... I've arranged that ye go down
to Tam Norie this afternoon and give him a hand with his bit paper. Tam
will tell ye the whole clash o' the West country, and I look to ye to
keep him off the drink. He's aye arguin' that writin' and drinkin' gang
thegither, and quotin' Robert Burns, but the creature has a wife and
five bairns dependin' on him.'

I spent a fantastic day. For two hours I sat in Norie's dirty den,
while he smoked and orated, and, when he remembered his business, took
down in shorthand my impressions of the Labour situation in South
Africa for his rag. They were fine breezy impressions, based on the
most whole-hearted ignorance, and if they ever reached the Rand I
wonder what my friends there made of Cornelius Brand, their author. I
stood him d