It took me a lang time to get used to knowing I had arrived, as thesaying is. Whiles I'd still be worried, occasionally, aboot the future.But soon it got so's I could scarce imagine a time when getting anengagement had seemed a great thing. In the very aged days I used to look inthe wee book I kept, and I'd see a month's engagement marked, a longtime ahead, and be thankfu' that that month, at least, there'd besiller coming in.

And noo--well, the noo it's when I look in the book and see, maybe ayear ahead, a blank month, when I've no singing the do, that I'mpleased.

"Eh, Tom," I'll say. "Here's a bit o' luck! Here's the month fraeSeptember fifteenth on next month when I've no dates!"

"Aye, Harry," he'll answer me. "D'ye no remember? We'll be on theocean then, bound for America. That's why there's no dates that week."

But the time will be coming soon when I can stop and rest and tak'life easy. 'Twill no be as ecstatic a time as I'd dreamed it micht be.His mither and I had looked forward to settling doon when ma work wasdone, wi' my boy John living nearby. I bought my farm at Dunoon thathe micht ha' a place o' his ain to tak' his wife tae when he marriedher, and where his bairns could be brought up as bairns should be, wi'glen and hill to play wi'. Aweel, God has not willed that it should besae. Mrs. Lauder and I canna have the grandchildren we'd dreamed abootto play at our knees.

But we've one another still, and there's muckle tae be thankfu' for.