ROBIN IN AMERICA.
While these changes were taking place in the other families, Annie
McPherson's children were not standing still. Thomas MacDuff had long
sought the hand of Jennie, but she had kept him alternating between hope
and fear. "He is nae better than ither folk," said she, "if he is a
minister's son. If I wanted a sweetheart I could find mony a laddie as
good as himsel any day in the week."
"She is a chip of the old block," said Donald to his wife.
But finally she concluded that he was better than other laddies, and
consented to become his wife. The light-hearted, fun-loving McPhersons
had a merry wedding. Jokes and laughter were not wanting on that day,
and these were not frowned upon even by the good minister, the
bridegroom's father. "The Bible tells us there is a time to be merry,"
said he, "and what time is more fitting than a wedding-day?"
Thomas MacDuff taught a village school in a neighboring town, and
thither he took his wife.
Robin still remained at home, but every passing year had added strength
to his desire to go to America. He read of its boundless extent, its
fertile soil, its sources of wealth, and the facility with which a home
and competence could be acquired, and nothing would satisfy him but to
go there. Scotland was well enough for those who wished to live and die
in the same cottage, he said; but he wanted a better chance.
His parents looked with disapprobation on his plans and wishes, but he
could not be turned from his purpose.
"I will make a man that you will not be ashamed of," said he. "Some day
you will think I hae as muckle sense as ither folk."
Dame McKay having been laid in her last resting-place, her son was free
to carry into effect his long-cherished desire to emigrate to America.
He and Robin would go together. He had saved enough money to pay his
passage. Robin also had some money; and when his father became convinced
that nothing could keep him at home, he generously supplied him with as
much more as he needed to pay his passage and defray his expenses until
he should earn a support in the new country, or bring him back to
Scotland if his anticipations should not be realized.
As the time for departure drew near, serious faces and sad hearts were
in the home of the McPhersons. Robin tried to dissipate their sadness.
"Ye needna wear sic lang faces," said he. "America is nae longer thought
to be the end o' the earth. Wha kens but I may graw rich there, and come
back and mak a' the lairds lift their bonnets to me?"
"Oh, my puir bairn," said his mother, "mair likely ye willna ken what a
hame is in that farawa land. Ye will be gaen aboot frae place to place,
and naebody will think o' your comfort."
"Hoot, mither! As for a hame, I will get ane for mysel, and a Yankee
wife will think of my comfort."
But when the tender-hearted Robin came to say adieu to father, mother,
brother, and sister, it was all he could do to control his feelings. And
there were his aged grandparents whom he could not expect to see again;
he must say to them a last good-by. He thought it would be easier to
speak his farewells hurriedly and hasten away. But they detained him to
give their last words of counsel. Douce Donald looked very grave. Taking
the young man's hand, he said,
"Robin, I hae been young, and I am noo auld. I hae learned mony things
by experience, sae hear a ward frae your grandfaither. Dinna sow any
wild oats; ye wunna want to reap them. Dinna meddle wi' the wine-cup;
it will bring ye doun below the beasties that perish. Never gang at sic
a gait as I hae dune in my younger days, for ye may never rin against
ony honest Wullie wha will help ye back to the right way. God bless
thee, Robin! May he keep thy foot frae falling and thine ee frae tears!"
The grandmother then approached, her strong face quivering with emotion.
"Your grandfaither has said what was in my mind to say. I will add only
one thing. Pray to the great and gude Father that he will guide your
feet in wisdom's ways, which are ways of pleasantness, and in her paths,
which are paths of peace. Then shall we meet in that bonny warld, the
shores o' which your grandparents are now nearing. Fare ye weel."
Robin was quite overcome; he could hardly trust his voice to reply. He
stepped quickly from the door, said a last good-by, and drove away, not
venturing to look back.
Separation from friends is often less felt by those who go out into the
world than by those who remain at home. It was so in this case. Robin
met Geordie McKay, as had been arranged, and the two young men set out
together. Their minds were diverted by new scenes and bright
anticipations; but it was not so at home. Annie McPherson gathered up
every article that had been her son's, and laid them all away with
tender touches, as if handling the relics of the dead. Many a sigh
escaped her motherly bosom, and the very things he had often left in her
way, and on account of which she had found fault with him, were now
gently lifted, and invested almost with sacredness. All missed him as
well as the mother. The father was unusually busy in order to divert his
mind; the grandfather took his cane and walked far beyond the
out-buildings--a thing he had not done for many a day; the grandmother
lay down for her accustomed nap, but soon returned unrefreshed to her
chair. "I canna sleep the day," she said. When evening came and all the
household gathered around the hearth, Robin was their theme, and day
after day the missing link of the family chain was held in remembrance
and mentioned with tenderness.
When, however, there came a letter stating that he had arrived safely in
New York, they felt relieved and comforted. He had written that he
should start immediately for the broad West, to secure a home amid its
fertile lands. And when he wrote that he and Geordie had each taken a
homestead for almost nothing, and were living alone in a little
log-cabin, and reported how easily they turned the soil, that there
were no stones, that the climate was delightful, and that abundance of
game could be had for the taking--those left at home began to think
better of the venture. "Maybe," said they, "it wasna a fulish notion
after a'."
Robin had indeed, in good earnest, set about making a home; but the
second part of his vaunt, a wife to keep it, seemed less likely to be
accomplished.
"Lassies are but few here," said Geordie. "I doot if ye find ane to suit
your notion for a lang while, Robin."
"I wouldna want ane to come to this place just now," replied Robin. "I
must first get my farm in good condition, and save my siller and build a
house; then I would have a better chance wi' the lassies."
Geordie McKay was no whit behind Robin in industry and thrift. Both
worked early and late. In a few years they had well-cultivated farms,
horses and cattle, and each a very good house. Having prepared their
cages, they were not long in finding birds to occupy them. A neighboring
farmer who had two grown daughters soon became father-in-law to the two
thrifty Scotchmen. Thus in the midst of abundance such as they had never
seen in the old world did these two young men pass their days in
cheerful labor, looking forward to the possibilities of the future, and
glad that they had left a narrow world, too old to change its ways. Many
a time, when venison, prairie-chicken, or a rabbit steamed on their
well-supplied tables, did the circumstance of the stolen hare present
itself to their memory, and Geordie thought of his pale, pinched mother,
whose wants could not always be supplied.
Often did they talk of home, of bonny Scotland, and the friends they
left behind them. Robin dearly loved his kindred across the water; and
when he received tidings of the death of his grandfather, and afterwards
of his grandmother, he sighed that he should have no more kindly
messages from these aged relatives. He often wondered what his parents
would say if they could see the great country in which he had chosen a
home.
In his letters he pictured his surroundings in glowing colors. These
letters were eagerly read and their contents told over. They fell on the
ears of one more interested than the others, and that one was Davie
Murdoch's Jamie. He knew that his parents would not care to have him
feel any special interest in that subject, so he concealed his thoughts
for a time, but they were like a smouldering fire in his bosom.