THE SHORTER CATECHISM (Revised Version) When I was young and herdit sheep I read auld tales o' Wallace wight; My heid was fou o' sangs and threip O' folk that feared nae mortal might. But noo I'm auld, and weel I ken We're made alike o' gowd and mire; There's saft bits in the stievest men, The bairnliest's got a spunk o' fire. Sae hearken to me, lads, It's truth that I tell: There's nae man a' courage— I ken by mysel'. I've been an elder forty year: I've tried to keep the narrow way: I've walked afore the Lord in fear: I've never missed the kirk a day. I've read the Bible in and oot, (I ken the feck o't clean by hert). But, still and on, I sair misdoot I'm better noo than at the stert. Sae hearken to me, lads, It's truth I maintain: Man's works are but rags, for I ken by my ain. I hae a name for decent trade: I'll wager a' the countryside Wad sweer nae trustier man was made, The ford to soom, the bent to bide. But when it comes to coupin' horse, I'm just like a' that e'er was born; I fling my heels and tak' my course; I'd sell the minister the morn. Sae hearken to me, lads, It's truth that I tell: There's nae man deid honest— I ken by mysel'. III THE LEMNIAN He pushed the matted locks from his brow as he peered into the mist. His hair was thick with salt, and his eyes smarted from the greenwood fire on the poop. The four slaves who crouched beside the thwarts-Carians with thin birdlike faces-were in a pitiable case, their hands blue with oar-weals and the lash marks on their shoulders beginning to gape from sun and sea. The Lemnian himself bore marks of ill usage. His cloak was still sopping, his eyes heavy with watching, and his lips black and cracked with thirst. Two days before the storm had caught him and swept his little craft into mid-Aegean. He was a sailor, come of
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