He motioned me to look at it.
"Give it to the lass," he whispered.

"I had once a lass like yon, and I aye wore it for her sake.

I've had a roving life, with many ill deeds in it, but doubtless the Almighty will make allowances.

Can you say a bit prayer, Andrew ?" As well as I could, I repeated that Psalm I had said over the graves by the Rapidan.

He looked at me with eyes as clear and honest as a child's.
"'In death's dark vale I will fear no ill,'" he repeated after me.
"That minds me of lang syne.