My old friend came daundering down the street with what might have been a bag of cherries, if cherries were in season, and what I surmised were really the twopenny pies with which Jinnet and he sometimes made the Saturday evenings festive. When we met he displayed a blue hyacinth in a flower-pot.

“Saw’t in a fruiterer’s window,” said he, “and took the notion. Ninepence; dod! I dinna ken hoo they mak’ them for the money. I thocht it wad please the wife, and min’ her o’ Dunoon and the Lairgs and a’ thae places that’s doon the watter in the summer-time.

“Ye may say whit ye like, I’m shair they shut up a’ thae coast toons when us bonny wee Gleska buddies is no’ comin’ doon wi’ oor tin boxes, and cheerin’ them up wi’ a clog-wallop on the quay.

“It’s a fine thing a flooer; no’ dear to buy at the start, and chaper to keep than a canary. It’s Nature—the Rale Oreeginal. Ninepence! And the smell o’t! Jist a fair phenomena!”

“A sign of spring, Erchie,” I said; “thank heaven! the primrose is in the wood, and the buds bursting on the hedge in the country, though you and I are not there to see it.”

“I daursay,” said he, “I’ll hae to mak’ a perusal doon the length o’ Yoker on the skoosh car when the floods is ower. I’m that used to them noo, as shair’s death I canna get my naitural sleep on dry nichts unless Jinnet gangs oot to the back and throws chuckies at the window, lettin’ on it’s rain and hailstanes. When I hear the gravel on the window I cod mysel’ it’s the genuine auld Caledonian climate, say my wee ‘Noo I lay me,’ and gang to sleep as balmy as a nicht polisman.

“There’s a great cry the noo aboot folks comin’ frae the country and croodin’ into the toons and livin’ in slums and degenerating the bone and muscle o’ Britain wi’ eatin’ kippered herrin’ and ice-cream. Thoosands o’ them’s gaun aboot Gleska daein’ their bit turns the best way they can, and no’ kennin’, puir craturs! there’s a Commission sittin’ on them as hard’s it can.

“‘Whit’s wanted,’ says the Inspectors o’ Poor, ‘is to hustle them aboot frae place to place till the soles o’ their feet gets red-hot wi’ the speed they’re gaun at; then gie them a bar o’ carbolic soap and a keg o’ Keatin’s poother, and put them on the first train for Edinburgh.

“‘Tear doon the rookeries,’ says anither man, ‘and pit up rooms and kitchens wi’ wally jawboxes and tiled closes at a rent o’ eighteenpence a-week when ye get it.’

“‘That’s a’ very fine,’ says the economists, ‘but if ye let guid wally jawbox hooses at ten shillin’s a-year less than the auld-established and justly-popular slum hoose, will’t no’ tempt mair puir folk frae the country into Gleska and conjest the Gorbals worse than ever?’ The puir economists thinks the folks oot aboot Skye and Kamerhash-injoo’s waitin’ for telegrams tellin’ them the single apairtment hoose in Lyon Street, Garscube Road,’s doon ten shillin’s a-year, afore they pack their carpet-bags and start on the Clansman for the Broomielaw. But they’re no’. They, divna ken onything aboot the rent o’ hooses in Gleska, and they’re no’ carin’, for maybe they’ll no’ pay’t ony-wye. They jist come awa’ to Gleska when the wife tells them, and Hughie’s auld enough for a polisman.

“Slums! wha wants to abolish slums? It’s no’-the like o’ me nor Duffy. If there werena folk leevin’ in slums I couldna buy chape shirts, and the celebrated Stand Fast Craigroyston serge breeks at 2s. 11d. the pair, bespoke, guaranteed, shrunk, and wan hip-pocket.

“When they’re proposin’ the toast o’ the ‘Army, Navy, and Reserve Forces,’ they ought to add the Force that live in Slums. They’re the men and women that’s aye ready to sweat for their country—when their money’s done. A man that wants the chapest kind o’ chape labour kens he’ll aye can get it in the slums; if it wasna for that, my Stand Fast Craigroyston breeks wad maybe cost 7s. 6d., and some of the elders in the kirk I’m beadle for wad hae to smoke tuppenny cigars instead o’ sixpenny yins.

“The slums’ll no’ touch ye if ye don’t gang near them.

“Whit a lot o’ folk want to dae’s to run the skoosh cars away oot into the country whaur the clegs and the midges and the nae gas is, and coup them oot at Deid Slow on the Clyde, and leave them there wander’t. Hoo wad they like it themsel’s? The idea is that Duffy, when he’s done wi’ his last rake o’ coals,’ll mak’ the breenge for Deid Slow, and tak’ his tea and wash his face wi’ watter that hard it stots aff his face like a kahootchy ba’, and spend a joyous and invigoratin’ evenin’ sheuchin’ leeks and prunin’ cauliflooer-bushes in the front plot o’ his cottage home.

“I think I see him! He wad faur sooner pay twelve pounds rent in Grove Street, and hae the cheery lowe o’ the Mull o’ Kintyre Vaults forenent his paurlor window, than get his boots a’ glaur wi’ plantin’ syboes roond his cottage home at £6, 10s.

“The country’s a’ richt for folks that havena their health and dinna want to wear a collar to their wark, and Deid Slow and places like that may be fine for gaun to if ye want to get ower the dregs o’ the measles, but they’re nae places for ony man that loves his fellow-men.

“And still there’s mony a phenomena! I ken a man that says he wad stay in the country a’ the year roond if he hadna to bide in Gleska and keep his eye on ither men in the same tred’s himsel’, to see they’re no’ risin’ early in the mornin’ and gettin’ the better o’ him.

“It wadna suit Easy-gaun Erchie. Fine I ken whit the country is; did I no’ leeve a hale winter aboot Dairy when I was a halflin’?

“It’s maybe a’ richt in summer, when you and me gangs oot on an excursion, and cheers them up wi’ oor melodeon wi’ bell accompaniment; but the puir sowls havena much diversion at the time o’ year the V-shaped depression’s deckin’ on Ben Nevis, and the weather prophets in the evening papers is promisin’ a welcome change o’ weather every Setturday. All ye can dae when your wark’s done and ye’ve ta’en your tea’s to put on a pair o’ top-boots and a waterproof, and gang oot in the dark. There’s no’ even a close to coort in, and if ye want to walk alang a country road at nicht thinkin’ hoo much money ye hae in the bank, ye must be gey smert no’ to fa’ into a ditch. Stars? Wha wants to bother glowerin’ at stars? There’s never ony change in the programme wi’ them in the country. If I want stars I gang to the Britannia.

“Na, na, Gleska’s the place, and it’s nae wonder a’ the country-folks is croodin’ into’t as fast’s they can get their cottage homes sublet.

“This is the place for intellect and the big pennyworth of skim-milk.

“I declare I’m that ta’en wi’ Gleska I get up sometimes afore the fire’s lichted to look oot at the window and see if it’s still to the fore.

“Fifteen, public-hooses within forty yairds o’ the close-mooth; a guttapercha works at the tap o’ the street, and twa cab-stances at the foot. My mornin’ ‘oors are made merry wi’ the de-lightfu’ strains o’ factory hooters and the sound o’ the dust-cart man kickin’ his horse like ony-thing whaur it’ll dae maist guid.

“I can get onywhere I want to gang on the skoosh cars for a bawbee or a penny, but the only place I hae to gang to generally is my wark, and I wad jist as soon walk it, for I’m no in ony hurry.

“When the rain’s blashin’ doon at nicht on the puir miserable craturs workin’ at their front plots in Deid Slow, or trippin’ ower hens that’ll no’ lay ony eggs, I can be improvin’ my mind wi’ Duffy at the Mull o’ Kintyre Vaults, or daunderin’ alang the Coocaddens wi’ my hand tight on. my watch-pocket, lookin’ at the shop windows and jinkin’ the members o’ the Sons of Toil Social Club (Limited), as they tak’ the breadth o’ the pavement.

“Gleska! Some day when I’m in the key for’t I’ll mak’ a song aboot her. Here the triumphs o’ civilisation meet ye at the stair-fit, and three bawbee mornin’ rolls can be had efter six o’clock at nicht for a penny.

“There’s libraries scattered a’ ower the place; I ken, for I’ve seen them often, and the brass plate at the door tellin’ ye whit they are.

“Art’s a’ the go in Gleska, too; there’s something aboot it every ither nicht in the papers, when Lord Somebody-or-ither’s no’ divorcin’ his wife, and takin’ up the space; and I hear there’s hunders o’ pictures oot in yon place at Kelvin-grove.

“Theatres, concerts, balls, swarees, lectures—ony mortal thing ye like that’ll keep ye oot o’ your bed, ye’ll get in Gleska if ye have the money to pay for’t.”

“It’s true, Erchie.”

“Whit’s true?” said the old man, wrapping the paper more carefully round his flower-pot. “Man, I’m only coddin’. Toon or country, it doesna muckle maitter if, like me, ye stay in yer ain hoose. I don’t stay in Gleska; not me! it’s only the place I mak’ my money in; I stay wi’ Jinnet.”