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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

"Weir of Hermiston"

He had figured on the stool of repentance, for
once fulfilling to the letter the tradition of his hero and model. His
humorous verses to Mr. Torrance on that occasion - "Kenspeckle here my
lane I stand" - unfortunately too indelicate for further citation, ran
through the country like a fiery cross - they were recited, quoted,
paraphrased, and laughed over as far away as Dumfries on the one hand
and Dunbar on the other.
These four brothers were united by a close bond, the bond of that mutual
admiration - or rather mutual hero-worship - which is so strong among
the members of secluded families who have much ability and little
culture. Even the extremes admired each other. Hob, who had as much
poetry as the tongs, professed to find pleasure in Dand's verses; Clem,
who had no more religion than Claverhouse, nourished a heartfelt, at
least an open-mouthed, admiration of Gib's prayers; and Dandie followed
with relish the rise of Clem's fortunes. Indulgence followed hard on
the heels of admiration.


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