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"But there's mair intill 't than that," persisted Malcolm. "I doobt gien there was ony whusky i' thae times aither; for I hard a gentleman say the ither day 'at hoo he had tastit the first whusky 'at was ever distillt in Scotlan', an' horrible stuff it was, he said, though it was 'maist as auld as the forty-five." "Confound your long wind! Go on," said the marquis peremptorily.
"Your conscience, Rat?" said Sharpitlaw, with a sneer, which the reader will probably think very natural upon the occasion. "Ou ay, sir," answered Ratcliffe, calmly, "just my conscience; a'body has a conscience, though it may be ill wunnin at it. I think mine's as weel out o' the gate as maist folk's are; and yet it's just like the noop of my elbow, it whiles gets a bit dirl on a corner."
The maist of it was from a neighbour they caa'd Laurie Lapraik a sly tod. Laurie had wealth o' gear, could hunt wi' the hound and rin wi' the hare, and be Whig or Tory, saunt or sinner, as the wind stood.
Noo, of course, it was juist an or'nary day in Dr. Cameron's parish across the burn the burn divides the twa, ye ken. Weel, Davie was a lad for whustlin' he cudna leeve withoot whustlin' but he was gey religious too. Weel, I met Davie that mornin', walkin' awfu' fast, maist rinnin' an' his face was red. "'Whaur micht ye be gaun, Davie? says I, 'naebody ailin'?
There's a michty few folk i' this world who can say they're no dependant upon others in some measure. I ken o' none, myself. It's a fine thing to mind one's ain business, but if one gies the matter thought one will find, I think, that a man's business spreads oot more than maist folk reckon it does. Here, again. In the States there's been trouble about the men that work on the railways.
For of all his exploits which had delighted the Seminary, none, for its wonder and daring, its sheer amazingness, could be compared with a stolen visit to Bulldog's rabbits. "Nestie," he murmured to himself, as he remembered that little Englishman's prodigal imagination, "is a maist extraordinary leear, but he said 'as sure as death." "Why, Speug, is that you? You ought to have opened the door.
And those things, as is richt and proper, his country will take in its charge. But after that what he wants maist is tae know that he's no going to be helpless all his days. He wants to feel that he's some use in the world. Unless he can feel sae, he'd raither ha' stayed in a grave in France, alongside the thousands of others who have stayed there.
"Dear sir, the Captain says a three-nookit hankercher is the maist fashionable overlay, and that stocks belang to your honour and me that are auld warld folk. I beg pardon for mentioning us twa thegither, but it was what he said." "The Captain's a puppy, and you are a goose, Caxon." "It's very like it may be sae," replied the acquiescent barber: "I am sure your honour kens best."
"Oh! a' say," remarked a born East-Ender, for whom we are perfectly certain the Clyde and Thistle, according to his self-importance at any rate, had played their best on Barrowfield and Beechwood, "look at that; it's no' fair to gie the Vale a free kick for that; it's the auld way; gie't ta the yin that mak's the maist noise."
There's a reason for maist of the things there are in the world. Sometimes it's a good reason; whiles it's a bad one. But there's a reason, and you maun e'en be reasonable when you come to talk o' making changes. In the beginning there was just man, wasna there, wi' his woman, when he could find her, and catch her, and tak' her wi' him tae his cave, and their bairns.
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