who knew him best almost a part of himself, and as such are related here, as nearly as possible in his own words; but the Scottish accent that lent them such a charm must needs be missing.
James the First of Scotland was sent as a child to France to be educated; but on the way his vessel was captured by an English cruiser, and he was carried a prisoner to England and brought up there to a degree of culture which he never could have found at the Scottish court. When he returned as a young man to Scotland, he found many abuses had arisen under the rule of his turbulent nobles, and these he set himself to correct. He was accustomed to go about incognito among his people, that he might discover their needs. One day in the garb of a peasant he approached a stream which he wished to cross, and seeing a soldier fishing near by he called to him to know if he could get across.
“Ou, ay,” he replied, “there is a ford just here; but I’ll carry you across if you’ll gie me a gill o’ whiskey at Meggie’s,” pointing to a tavern across the brook.
“But what’ll ye do if ye drap me in?”
“Ou, then, I’ll gie ye twa gills.”
The king mounted the soldier’s back, and the two got almost across the stream, when, as the soldier stoutly maintained afterwards, the king “clinked” him, and they both went down. “Aweel,” said the soldier, “I'll have to pay you my twa gills.” So the two went into Meggie’s, and drank their two gills, but when it came to the reckoning the soldier found he had no money.
“Hech, sirs,” says the king, “what are ye gaun to dae noo?”
“O,” says the soldier, “I’ll pawn my sword.”
“But,” says the king, “the twenty-first of the month
