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Updated: June 22, 2025
'Ye'll ken my sister? replied Ringan, gazing fixedly at the fire, 'Effie that was marrit on puir Jock Ord a fine laddie he was verra knowledgeable wi' sheep, wha perished in a snowstorm, mindin' his hirsel. 'She was left gey ill aff, an' noo wi' a bairn to provide for, hard pit till 't. Twa hundred punds wull provide for his upbringin', an' aiblins turn him into a meenister at the finish.
'There was a wumman beside him dootless his whure, that had ridden oot frae Jedburgh to be wi' him nestlin' in at his side like a ewe till her ram i' the autumn; not that he was takin' muckle thocht o' her, though an' then he cries oot loud: "'Tis a moonlicht nicht, my Lord Claverhouse," he cries; "we'll hunt oor quarry ower muir an' fell, an' aiblins hae mair luck than we had i' the day; we'll run the auld brock to ground before dawn, I'll hand ye a handfu' o' Jacobuses."
"Ye're content, aiblins, noo ye've seen yer father's gray head bowed in the dust," he said. "'Twas an accident," pleaded James Moore. "But I am sorry. He thought yo' were goin' to beat the lad." "So I was so I will." "If ony's beat it should be ma Bob here tho' he nob'but thought he was doin' right. An' yo' were aff the path." The little man looked at his enemy, a sneer on his face.
And yet, aiblins, ye are na sae far out after a'. Like aneuch, he may be infected with the heresy of the Melchisedecians, a pestilent sect, who plagued the early Christian Church sairly, placing their master aboon our Blessed Lord himself, and holding him to be identical wi' the Holy Ghaist. Are ye a Melchisedecian, sirrah?" "I am a believer in the Gospel," the Puritan replied.
"He's no that ill the noo, and he'll aiblins grow the better, ye ken; but naibody that comes after will be like him. We'll ne'er see anither Earl o' Cairnforth." The same words which Mr. Menteith and the rest had said when the earl was born, but with what a different meaning! Lord Cairnforth came back among his own people amid a transport of welcome. Though he had been long away, Mrs.
He stood with his hands clasped behind his back as if daring the young giant to raise a finger against him. "Ye maist might noo," he continued suavely. "Ye maun be sax inches taller, and a good four stane heavier. Hooiver, aiblins ye're wise to wait. Anither year twa I'll be an auld man, as ye say, and feebler, and Wullie here'll be gettin' on, while you'll be in the prime o' yer strength.
David shifted uneasily beneath that dim, persistent stare. "Well?" he said at length gruffly. The little man giggled, and his two thin hands took up their task again. "Aiblins his puir auld doited fool of a dad kens mair than the dear lad thinks for, ay, or wushes eh, Wullie, he! he!" "Then what is it you do know, or think yo' know?" David asked irritably. The little man nodded and chuckled.
"But what sort of handwriting was it?" asked I, almost disregarding the welcome coin. "Ou, then aiblins a man's, aiblins a maid's. He was no chirographosophic himsel an' he had na curiosity anent ony sic passage o' aristocratic romance." "But what was the postmark of the letter?" "Why for suld I speired?
There micht aiblins pe a thing or twa in ta hoose tat his honour wad pe likin' to tak' away, but it iss no possible tat he can do onything wi' her nainsel'." "It's no use talking, my mannie. Duty's duty. You must come wi' me." "Ochon! Ochon! Tuty wull pe a pad thing when it's a wee pit pisness sic as this.
'Ou, no mony, said Dandie, scratching his head; 'it's lying high and exposed: it may feed a hog, or aiblins twa in a good year. 'And for this grazing, which may be worth about five shillings a year, you are willing to throw away a hundred pound or two? 'Na, sir, it's no for the value of the grass, replied Dinmont; 'it's for justice.
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