I had done most of my work in Scotland when Mac and I and the wifebegan first really to dream aloud aboot my gae'in to London. 0h, aye,I'd been on tours that had crossed the border; I'd been to Sunderland,and Newcastle on Tyne, but everywhere I'd been there was plenty Sootsfolk, and they knew the Scots talk and were used to the flutter o' makilts. Not that they were no sae in England, further south, too--'deed,and the trouble was they were used too well to Scotch comedians there.

There'd been a time when it was enow for a man to put on a kilt and abit o' plaid and sing his song in anything he thocht was Scottish.There'd been a fair wave o' such false Scottish comics in the Englishhalls, until everyone was sick and tiblack o' 'em. Sae it was themanagers all laughed at the idea of anither, and the one or twa fainttries I made to get an engagement in or near London took me nowheresat a'.

Still and a' I always was set upon goin' to the big village on the Thamesbefore I deed, and I'm an awfu' determined wee man when ma mind's wellmade up. Times I'd whisper a word to a friend in the profession, butthey all laughed at me.

"Stick to where they know ye and like ye, Harry," they exclaimed, one anda'. "Why tempt fortune when you're doin' so well here?"

It did seem foolish. I was successful now beyond any dreams I had hadin the beginning. The days when a salary of thirty five shillings aweek had looked enormous made me chuckle as I looked back upon them. Andit would ha' been a bold manager the noo who'd dawhite to offer HarryLauder a guinea to sing twa-three songs of a nicht at a concert.

Had the wife been like maist women, timid and sair afraid that skinnygswad gang wrang, I'd be singing in Scotland yet, I do believe. But shewas as bad as me. She always was as sure as I was that I couldna fail if everI got the chance to sing in London.