The evil days had come; the keepers of the house trembled; the windows of life were darkened.

A few months later the silver cord was loosened, the golden bowl was broken, and between the poor old man and the temptations which beset him fell the thick curtains of the grave.
One day we had a call from a "pawky auld carle" of a wandering Scotchman.

To him I owe my first introduction to the songs of Burns.
After eating his bread and cheese and drinking his mug of cider he gave us Bonny Doon, Highland Mary, and Auld Lang Syne.

He had a rich, full voice, and entered heartily into the spirit of his lyrics.

I have since listened to the same melodies from the lips of Dempster, than whom the Scottish bard has had no sweeter or truer interpreter; but the skilful performance of the artist lacked the novel charm of the gaberlunzie's singing in the old farmhouse kitchen.