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Gien I was you, I wadna tell fowk any sic nonsense as yon; I wad tell them 'at ilk ane 'at disna dee his wark i' the warl', an' dee 't the richt gait, 's no the worth o' a minnin, no to say a whaul, for ilk ane o' thae wee craturs dis the wull o' him 'at made 'im wi' ilka whisk o' his bit tailie, fa'in' in wi' a' the jabble o' the jaws again' the rocks, for it's a' ae thing an' a' to haud the muckle sea clean.
"Hoot! hoot! dinna speyk sic awfu' words, Thamas, Ye're nae the prophet Jonah, ye ken." "Are ye the whaul than, to swallow me and my words thegither, Jean? "What ken ye aboot the lasses, Thamas? Haud ye to the men. The lasses are nae waur nor in ither pairts. I wat I can come and gang whan and whaur I like. Never a body says a word to me."
He does naething but rowt aboot in 's boaratory as he ca's 't bore-a-whig, or bore-a-tory, it's little to me makin' stinks there fit to scomfish a whaul, an' gar 'im stick his nose aneth the watter for a glamp o' fresh air. He's that hard-hertit 'at he never sae muckle as aits his denner alongside o' his ain sister,'cep' it be whan he has company, an' wad luik like ither fowk.
"Weel, gin ye come in for a barrel or twa, ye may coont upo' me to tak it aff yer han', at the ordinar' price�-to the wholesale merchan's, ye ken�-wi' maybe a sma' discoont for orderin' 't afore the whaul was ta'en." The day drew near. He had bidden all his friends farewell.
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