"Ay, you've got it," he said, humming it after me.

"I aye love the way of it.

Yon's the tune I used to whistle mysel' on shipboard when the weather was clear." He had the seaman's trick of thinking of the weather first thing in the morning, and this little thing wrought a change in my view of him.

His madness was seemingly like that of an epileptic, and when it passed he was a simple creature with a longing for familiar things.
"The wind's to the east," he said.

"I could wish I were beating down the Forth in the _Loupin' Jean._ She was a trim bit boat for him that could handle her." "Man," I said, "what made you leave a clean job for the ravings of yesterday ?" "I'm in the Lord's hands," he said humbly.