ane they ca' Wordsworth."

"I ken naething aboot him," said Miss Horn, with emphasized
indifference.

"An' I ken but little: I s' ken mair or lang though. This is hoo
the piece begins:

Who is the happy warrior? Who is he
That every Man in arms should wish to be?--
It is the generous Spirit, who, when brought
Among the tasks of real life, hath wrought
Upon the plan that pleased his childish thought.

--There! that's what ye wad hae o' me, mem!"

"Hear till him!" cried Miss Horn. "The man's i' the richt, though
naebody never h'ard o' 'im. Haud ye by that, Ma'colm, an' dinna ye
rist till ye ha'e biggit a harbour to the men an' women o' Scaurnose.
Wha kens hoo mony may gang to the boddom afore it be dune, jist
for the want o' 't?"

"The fundation maun be laid in richteousness, though, mem, else--
what gien 't war to save lives better lost?"

"That belangs to the Michty," said Miss Horn.

"Ay, but the layin' o' the fundation belangs to me. An' I'll no
du't till I can du't ohn ruint my sister."