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Updated: June 8, 2025
"I was upo' the tap o' the Nose jist as the sun rase, luikin' aboot me, an' awa' upo' the Boar's Tail I saw twa angels sayin' their prayers. Nae doobt they war prayin' for the haill warl' i' the quaiet o' the mornin' afore the din begun. May be ane o' them was that auld priest wi' the lang name i' the buik o' Genesis, 'at hed naither father nor mither, puir man! him 'at gaed aboot blissin' fowk."
'He's been here a' day, readin' like a colliginer, said Jessie. 'A buik o' stories, here, answered Robert, carelessly, shy of being supposed so much engrossed with them as he really was. I should never expect much of a young poet who was not rather ashamed of the distinction which yet he chiefly coveted. There is a modesty in all young delight.
"It's a bonnie word, an' yir mither wes a sanct; but it's no for the like o' me. It's ower gude; a' daurna tak it. "Shut the buik an' let it open itsel, an' ye 'ill get a bit a've been readin' every nicht the laist month."
"The hert o' a wuman's no deceitfu' as the Buik says o' a man 's, an' sae 's a heap the easier deceivt. The chield's no ill-luikin'! an' I s' warran' he's no sae rouch wi' a yoong lass as wi' an auld wife." "Grizzie, ye wadna mint 'at oor Aggie's ane to be ta'en wi' the luiks o' a man!" "What for no whan it's a' the man has!
Gien it gaedna ower weel wi' her i' the auld man's time, it gangs waur wi' her noo; for sae lang as he was abune the yird there was aye somebody to ken whether she was livin' or deid. To see a bonnie lass like her strayin' aboot the place nae better companied nor wi' an auld buik it's jist eneuch to brak a man's hert, but that age kills rage." "Do the neighbours take no notice of her?"
It is wild and shy, and would hide itself, like a boy's or maiden's first love, from the gaze of the people. Something like this was Robert's feeling over The Arabian Nights. 'Ay, said John, taking snuff from a small bone spoon, 'it's a gran' buik that.
It was jist laithly to luik upo'. I cud describe it till ye, mem, but it wad only gar ye runkle yer bonny broo, an' luik as I wadna hae ye luik, mem, 'cause ye wadna luik freely sae bonny as ye div noo whan ye luik jist yersel'. But ae queer thing was, 'at atween hit an' the tree it grippit a buik, an' I kent it for the buik o' ballants. An' I gaed nearer, luikin' an' luikin', an' some frichtit.
"I was upo' the tap o' the Nose, jist as the sun rase, luikin' aboot me, an' awa' upo' the Boar's Tail I saw twa angels sayin' their prayers. Nae doobt they war prayin' for the haill warl', i' the quaiet o' the mornin' afore the din begud. Maybe ane them was that auld priest wi' the lang name i' the buik o' Genesis, 'at hed naither father nor mither puir man! him 'at gaed aboot blissin' fowk."
But they were no better on the other side, for the larches hid the meadow. They went down through them, therefore, to the bank of the little river the largest tributary of the Daur from the roots of Glashgar. "There he is!" cried Nicie. "I see him," responded Ginny, " with his cows all about the meadow." Donal sat a little way from the river, reading. "He's aye at 's buik!" said Nicie.
Christie. Lizzie Johnstone. "Oh! but ye're a fearsome lass." Christie. "Wha'll give me a sang for my bonny yarn?" Lord Ipsden, who had been an unobserved auditor of the latter part of the tale, here inquired whether she had brought her book. "What'n buik?" "Your music-book!" "Here's my music-book," said Jean, roughly tapping her head. "And here's mines," said Christie, birdly, touching her bosom.
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