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It's a thing I never was blamed wi' mysel', an' I wadna du't." "That's verra true," said Peter. "The mair weicht's intill't whan I lay 't to the door o' anither," persisted Meg. "Peter, gien ye ha'e onything again' my freen' Ma'colm MacPhail, oot wi' 't like a man, an' no playac' the gunpoother plot ower again. Ill wull's the warst poother ye can lay i' the boddom o' ony man's boat.
Dave laughed like a watchman's rattle, whose wooden spring had grown very weak. "Look here, Dave, now no nonsense! Want some more powder?" "Nay, I don't want no poother," said Dave. "Do you want some lead to melt down? I'll give you a big lump." "Nay, I don't want no poother, and I don't want no lead," said Dave in an ill-used tone. "I can buy what I want." "He does want it, Dick."
In Hyde Park Malcolm told his friend that he had sent for Kelpie. "She'll be the deid o' ye i' thae streets, as fu' o' wheels as the sea o' fish: twize I've been 'maist gr'un to poother o' my ro'd here," said Peter.
Macconochie would sneer; indeed, he never took the full name upon his lips but with a sort of a whine of hatred. "But he did! A fine employ it was: chapping at the man's door, and crying 'boo' in his lum, and puttin' poother in his fire, and pee-oys in his window; till the man thocht it was auld Hornie was come seekin' him. Weel, to mak a lang story short, Wully gaed gyte.
This was my first and last vocal performance. It was received with great applause. In fact, it was encored. The word "poother," which I pronounced "pootle", excited the enthusiasm of the audience. I was then sent to bed with a bit of plum-cake, and was doubtless awakened early next morning by the irritation of the dried crumbs of the previous night's feast.
"Deil a drap or drap o' whusky, or oucht else, yer lordship's hae fra my han' this nicht nae mair nor gien ye war a bairn 'at wantit poother to blaw himsel' up wi'! Ye hae had ower muckle a'ready, gien ye war but cawpable o' un'erstan'in', or failin' that, o' believin' an honest wuman 'at kens what state ye are in better nor ye du yersel'. A bonny lordship!" she muttered to herself as she turned from him.
"Ony gait it's no the w'y fowk ruins themsel's nooadays, my lord. They'll pu' doon an auld hoose ony day to save themsel's blastin' poother.
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