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And on receiving a copy of some verses written by a lady, he talks in a sad way for a Presbyterian deacon: "Were she some Aborigine squaw, Wha sings so sweet by nature's law, I'd meet her in a hazle shaw, Or some green loany, And make her tawny phiz and 'a My welcome crony." The practical philosophy of the stout, jovial rhymer was but little affected by the sour-featured asceticism of the elder.
And on receiving a copy of some verses written by a lady, he talks in a sad way for a Presbyterian deacon: "Were she some Aborigine squaw, Wha sings so sweet by nature's law, I'd meet her in a hazle shaw, Or some green loany, And make her tawny phiz and 'a My welcome crony." The practical philosophy of the stout, jovial rhymer was but little affected by the sour-featured asceticism of the elder.
Hannah started to her feet. Hand to ear, lips parted, with eager eyes and head bent forward she listened. "It's the tread of horses; they're coming up the loany." "I must run for it," said Neal, "let me out of the door, Hannah." "Bide now, bide a wee, they'd see you if you went through the door." She put out the lamp as she spoke. "Do you slip through to the master's room and open the window.
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