WANDERING DAVY.
It was while I was spending a few days in the dwelling of Mr. C., a
Scottish immigrant, that he received a long letter from his friends in
Scotland. After perusing the letter he addressed his wife, saying: "So
auld Davy's gone at last." "Puir man," replied Mrs. C. "If he's dead let
us hope that he has found that rest and peace which has been so long
denied him in this life." "And who was old Davy; may I enquire," said I,
addressing Mr. C. "Ay, man," he replied, "'tis a sad story; but when my
work is by for the night, I'll tell ye a' that I ken o' the life o' Davy
Stuart." I was then young and very imaginative; and a story of any kind
possessed much interest for me; and the thought that the story of Old
Davy was to be a true one, rendered it doubly interesting; so I almost
counted the hours of the remaining portion of the day; and when evening
came I was not slow to remind Mr. C. of his promise. Accordingly he
related to me the following particulars of the life of Davy Stuart;
which I give, as nearly as possible, in his own words; for it seems to
me that the story would lose half its interest were I to render it
otherwise.
"Davy Stuart was an aul' man when I was a wee boy at the school.
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