human
And if you will excuse my being so bold, sir, continued Hobson, with great humility,
gpt
Trying your hand at that, too?
human
Only a verse, sir.
gpt
O leese me on the toddy, the toddy, the toddy, O leese me on the toddy, We’ll hae a willie-waught!
human
Well, yes, he said, with rather a doubtful air,
gpt
I see her in the dewy flower, Sae lovely, sweet, and fair; I hear her voice in ilka bird Wi’ music charm the air; There’s not a bonnie flower that springs By fountain, shaw, or green, Nor yet a bonnie bird that sings But minds me o’ my Jean.
human
Beg pardon, sir—Miss Bethune? said Hobson, enquiringly; for he evidently thought these lines were of the old gentleman’s own composition. And then, as he received no answer, for Mr. Bethune had turned to his pipe, he resumed,
gpt
Ah, I see, sir, I ’ave not been successful. Too ambitious—too ambitious. It was you yourself, sir, as advised me to write about what I knew; and—and in fact, sir, what I see is that there is nothing like patriotism. Lor, sir, you should see them young fellers at the Oxbridge—they’re as brave as lions—especially when they’ve ’ad a glass. Talk about the French! The French ain’t in it, when we’ve got our spirit up. We can stand a lot, sir, yes, we can; but don’t let them push us too far. Not _too_ far. It will be a bad day for them when they do. An Englishman ain’t given to boasting; but he’s a terror when his back’s up—and a Scotchman too, sir, I beg your pardon—I did not mean anything—I intended to include the Scotchman too, I assure you, sir. There’s a little thing here, sir, he continued modestly,
human
A patriotic poem?—Well?
gpt
Oo will sweep the foe awye?
human
And many another ’most as good: They’re the men to shed their blood For their country!