human
Mr. Talkative of Prating-row is hardly wanted here to-night, old George Bethune was saying, unmindful of his own garrulous habits.
gpt
Music is better. What is that they are singing over there, Maisrie?
human
Oh, yes, of course: I thought it was familiar. And very pretty it sounds, coming across the water—though I do not know whether the air is modern or old. What I am certain of, he continued, raising his voice slightly as he usually did when he was about to discourse,
gpt
Grandfather, interposed Maisrie Bethune, quickly (for there were certain subjects that angered him beyond endurance)
human
Yes, that is curious, said the old man, yielding innocently.
gpt
Curious, is it not, that long before either Burns or Scott was born, a Scotchman named Mitchell should have collected over fifty of the best-known Scotch airs, and printed them, with words of his own; and that he should have chosen for the scene of his play the Borders of the Highlands, so as to contrast the manners and customs of the Highland chieftains and their fierce clansmen with those of the Lowland lairds and the soldiery sent to keep the peace between them. The _Highland Fair_ was produced at Drury Lane about 1730, if I remember aright; but I cannot gather whether Ewen and Colin, and Alaster and Kenneth, impressed the Londoners much. To me the book is valuable because of the airs—though I could wish for the original songs instead of Mitchell’s—
human
I see some of them are putting out their lights, and that is a hint for me to be off. I suppose we shall be wakened early enough to-morrow morning by the boats going by. Good-night, Mr. Harris! Good-night, grandfather!