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There may be mony ane there we ca'd auld here,'at we'll hae to tak like a bairn upo' oor knees an' bring up. I see na anither w'y o' 't. The Lord may ken a better, but I think he's shawn me this. For them 'at are Christ's maun hae wark like his to du, an' what for no the personal ministrations o' redemption to them 'at are deid, that they may come alive by kennin' him?

"Not exactly," interrupted Robin, "because, you see, electricity does not really flow, not being a substance." "Not a substance, sir! w'y, w'ot is it then?" "Like light and sound, it is merely an effect, an influence, a result," answered Robin. "We only use the word flow, and talk of electricity as a fluid, for convenience' sake."

If the cattle eat it, w'y maybe I'll cut another, but I don't want to be goin' round stuffin' my cows full of twigs for nothin'. Let 'em rustle for their feed, same as I do. But honest to God, Rufe, some of them little runty cows that hang around the river can't hardly cast a shadder, they're that ganted, and calves seems to be gittin' kinder scarce, too.

Ham sat down on the edge of the porch near the entrance and fanned himself with his hat. Great drops of perspiration were rolling down his face. He seemed to be in much distress. Finally Jennie said to him: "'Ham, where is the lettuce, the asparagus, and the butter we sent you after? "Ham, finding by this time that he was not dead, essayed to speak. He raised himself to his full height. "'W'y!

"No, no! I won't have it ole nassy plate!" "W'y, baby! W'y, Sammy," deprecated Cornelia, "that's yo' own little plate that mammy washed for you. You mustn't call it naisty." "Hit air nassy," insisted young Samuel. "Hit got 'pecks see!" and the small finger pointed to some minute flaw in the ware which showed as little dots on the white surface.

And he drug the dead woman under the same tree where Mr. Wright was so ever' time it 'ud lightnin', w'y, Wright he could look down and see him a-diggin' a grave there to bury the woman in.

"They don't steer as well on land as on sea," replied Hardy. "'Cause they ain't used to such craft, you see that's w'ere it is, sarjint," said the old salt, removing his pipe for a moment. "Just look at 'em some comin' along sidewise like crabs, others stern foremost. W'y, there's that grey craft wi' the broad little man holdin' on to its tail to prevent his slidin' over its head.

"W'y do I think so?" repeated Gillie; "w'y, cos he's not content with havin' busted his boots an' his clo'se, an' all but busted hisself, in goin' to the top o' Mont Blang an' Monty Rosa, an' all the other Monty-thingumbobs about but he's agoin' off to day with that queer fish Laycrwa to hunt some where up above the clouds in among the stars, I fancy for shamwas."

"Round the corner to your right, and after that second turning to your left." "Oh, that's all wrong," cried the boy. "W'y, 'ow should 'ee know hanythink about streets? Never goes nowheres, does nothink but sell snuff an' pigtail, mornin', noon, and night.

Lieutenant-Colonel Reid bought this land and put fairmers here first." "But he did not get his title from New Hampshire," Enoch said. "Nae w'y should he? New York owns the land to yon big river th' Connecticut call ye it? Our fri'nds settled here in '69. The titles these auld settlers held wes no guide na, na! But Colonel Reid is a guide mon 'deed yes." "How do you make that out?" demanded Enoch.