hough we have faced each other oft
And Scot hath drawn on Scot,
I cannot hold that Chance, or Time,
Or waste of sundering sea.
Can part the banished hearts that meet
At one in their Ain Countrie.

"We've sprung from every mile that lies
'Twixt Tweed-side and Ardshiel,
To wake the corners of the world
With clash of Scottish steel.
We've kept our faith to King and Prince
And held it ample fee,
If life or death might keep our name
Alive in our Ain Countrie.

"We've ridden far for name and fame.
We've never stooped for gold.
We've led the flying columns back
With victory in our hold.
We've won undying name and fame!
Yet all o' it I'd gie
To see the red sun set at hame,
At hame, in my Ain Countrie."

The enthusiasm of our generous hosts over my effort formed a fitting
close to the festivity, and the refrain of "Our Ain Countrie" was
carried forth from the room to pass from lip to lip until the whole
garrison was wild over it, and many a homesick fellow found sad
consolation in my poor effusion of an idle hour. Such a gratification
is the highest which a man of taste can receive, and it is to be
regretted that more men of genius do not direct their efforts to
such pleasing ends.

With our friends Poulariez, Joannes, and others in command of the
Royal Roussillon, we were provided for in the _Duke_, Captain
Renwick, where Kit, Angelique, with her husband, and a score of
English officers assembled to bid us farewell, so that our leaving
resembled more a party of pleasure than the embarkment of a defeated
army.

But as we dropped down the stream and stood watching the great rock
of Quebec, with its fringe of batteries, and the English flag flying
where ours had so proudly held its place for many a day, a sadness
fell upon us all.

Margaret and I stood somewhat apart from the others.

"Hugh, dear, cannot you find some cause for thankfulness?" she
said, softly.

"Oh yes; like Bougainville, I can at least quote the Psalmist: 'In
exitu Israel de-AEgypto, domus Jacob de populo barbaro.'"

"Oh, Hugh, do not say that! It has been a blessed land to us.
Listen, dear, to what has been my comfort all these years," and
with her beauteous face filled with the exaltation of her love she
repeated:

"The span o' Life's nae lang eneugh,
Nor deep eneugh the sea,
Nor braid eneugh this weary warld,
To part my Love frae me."