It was a sair sight
to see them thrown doon upon her."
My curiosity was excited; I pushed the tea-things from me, and told
Bell to give James his supper.
"Naething for me the night, Bell - I canna' eat - my thoughts will a'
rin on that puir lass. Sae young - sae bonnie, an' a few months ago
as blythe as a lark, an' now a clod o' the earth. Hout we maun all
dee when our ain time comes; but, somehow, I canna' think that
Jeanie ought to ha' gane sae sune."
"Who is Jeanie Burns? Tell me, James, something about her."
In compliance with my request, the man gave me the following story.
I wish I could convey it in his own words, but though I can
perfectly understand the Scotch dialect when spoken, I could not
write it in its charming simplicity: that honest, truthful brevity,
which is so characteristic of this noble people. The smooth tones
of the blarney may flatter our vanity, and please us for the
moment; but who places any confidence in those by whom it is
employed. We know that it is only uttered to cajole and decieve,
and when the novelty wears off, the repetition awakens indignation
and disgust; but who mistrusts the blunt, straightforward speech of
the land of Burns - for good or ill, it strikes home to the heart.
"Jeanie Burns was the daughter of a respectable shoemaker, who
gained a comfortable living by his trade in a small town in
Ayrshire.
