Scotch ballads, Scotch tunes, and Scotch literature were in
the ascendant. We sang "Auld Lang Syne," "Scots wha hae," and "Bonnie
Doon," and then, changing the key, sang "Dundee," "Elgin," and
"Martyr."
"Take care," said Mr. S.; "don't get too much excited."
"Ah," said I, "this is a thing that comes only once in a lifetime; do
let us have the comfort of it. We shall never come into Scotland for
the _first time_ again."
While we were thus at the fusion point of enthusiasm, the cars stopped
at Lockerbie. All was dim and dark outside, but we soon became
conscious that there was quite a number of people collected, peering
into the window; and with a strange kind of thrill, I heard my name
inquired for in the Scottish accent. I went to the window; there were
men, women, and children gathered, and hand after hand was presented,
with the words, "Ye're welcome to Scotland!"
Then they inquired for and shook hands with all the party, having in
some mysterious manner got the knowledge of who they were, even down
to little G., whom they took to be my son. Was it not pleasant, when I
had a heart so warm for this old country? I shall never forget the
thrill of those words, "Ye're welcome to Scotland," nor the "Gude
night."
After that we found similar welcomes in many succeeding stopping-
places; and though I did wave a towel out of the window, instead of a
pocket handkerchief, and commit other awkwardnesses, from not knowing
how to play my part, yet I fancied, after all, that Scotland and we
were coming on well together.
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