United States or Morocco ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"An' sae the deevil's dead!" said Sandy, half to himself, as he sat crooning and smoking that night over the fire. "Gone at last, puir fallow! an' he sae little appreciated, too! Every gowk laying his ain sins on Nickie's back, puir Nickie! verra like that much misunderstood politeecian, Mr.
"And I'll tell ye, Ratton, blithe will Nichol Muschat be to see ye, for he says he kens weel there isna sic a villain out o' hell as ye are, and he wad be ravished to hae a crack wi' you like to like ye ken it's a proverb never fails and ye are baith a pair o' the deevil's peats I trow hard to ken whilk deserves the hettest corner o' his ingle-side."
Ere he reached the end of the long avenue, however, a ball whistled past him, and the report of a pistol was heard. 'It was that deevil's buckle, Callum Beg, said Alick; 'I saw him whisk away through amang the reises.
It's a dark, uncanny loan, forbye that the kirk has aye had an ill name since the days o' James the Saxt and the deevil's cantrips played therein when the Queen was on the seas; and as for Tod's house, it was in the mirkest end, and was little likit by some that kenned the best. The door was on the sneck that day, and me and my faither gaed straucht in.
An' tell 'em this, too" and, as he rose, his whole face and figure assumed a dignity, an awfulness, which I had never seen before in him "tell them that ha' driven out and , an' every one that daur speak a word o' common sense, or common humanity them that stone the prophets, an' quench the Spirit o' God, and love a lie, an' them that mak the same them that think to bring about the reign o' love an' britherhood wi' pikes an' vitriol bottles, murther an' blasphemy tell 'em that ane o' fourscore years and mair ane that has grawn grey in the people's cause that sat at the feet o' Cartwright, an' knelt by the death-bed o' Rabbie Burns ane that cheerit Burdett as he went to the Touer, an' spent his wee earnings for Hunt an' Cobbett ane that beheld the shaking o' the nations in the Ninety-three, and heard the birth-shriek o' a newborn world ane that while he was yet a callant saw Liberty afar off, an' seeing her was glad, as for a bonny bride, an' followed her through the wilderness for threescore weary waeful years sends them the last message that e'er he'll send on airth: tell 'em that they're the slaves o' warse than priests and kings the slaves o' their ain lusts an' passions the slaves o' every loud-tongued knave an' mountebank that'll pamper them in their self-conceit; and that the gude God'll smite 'em down, and bring 'em to nought, and scatter 'em abroad, till they repent, an' get clean hearts and a richt speerit within them, and learn His lesson that he's been trying to teach 'em this threescore years that the cause o' the people is the cause o' Him that made the people; an' wae to them that tak' the deevil's tools to do his wark wi'! Gude guide us!
She started back. "Eh!" she cried; "guid God! sic a deevil's I maun be, to cairry the like o' that i' my inside! Lord! I'm a perfec' byke o' deevils! My name it maun be Legion. What is to become o' my puir sowl!"
Alec's heart gave way utterly. He knelt at Mr Cupples's feet, laid his head on his knee, and burst into very unsaxon but most gracious tears. Mr Cupples laid a small trembling hand on the boy's head, saying, "Eh! bantam, bantam!" and could say no more. "Mr Cupples," sobbed Alec, "forgive me. I'll cut my throat, gin ye like." "Ye wad do better to cut the deevil's throat." "Hoo could I do that?
"He's an ill man that blackgairds his wife, altho' she were the deevil's sister," says Mysie; an' even Ribekka gae her moo a dicht, an' whispered to hersel', "Eh, aye, that's a troo sayin'." "I'll no' say a wird again' men," said Mistress Mikaver, "for Wellum was a guid man to me"; an' she took a lang breth throo her nose, an' lookit up at the picture abune the chumla.
A good name it is, and one it would ill become my father's son to lightly. But I begin to grue at the sound of it." "My name is called Balfour," said I, "David Balfour of Shaws. As for him that sent me, I will let his token speak." And I showed the silver button. "Put it in your pocket, sir!" cries he. "Ye need name no names. The deevil's buckie, I ken the button of him! And deil hae't!
Lat a lee lie, as ye wad the deevil's tail 'at the laird's Jock took aff wi' the edge o' 's spaud." "A' thing 's agane me the noo!" sighed Malcolm. "Auld Jobb ower again!" returned Miss Horn almost sarcastically. "The deil had the warst o' 't though, an' wull hae, i' the lang hinner en'. Meanwhile ye maun face him. There's nae airmour for the back aither i' the Bible or i' the Pilgrim's Progress."
Word Of The Day