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Updated: June 8, 2025
"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."
Ye've mebbe watched the storm, sir, when it beat upon the shore. His style o' delivery was like the ragin' o' the waves. Ye see that buik, moderator, yir haun's restin' on the tap o't. Weel, he dune for sax o' them the while he was oor minister. We bocht the strongest bound o' them, but he banged them to tatters amazin' fast. A page at a skite.
And Ludovic Gordon bowed low over Marget's worn hand as if she had been a queen. Marget lifted Plato, and it seemed to me that day as if the dignity of our Lady of Sorrows had fallen upon her. "This is the buik George chose for you, Maister Maclean, for he aye said to me ye hed been a prophet and shown him mony deep things." The tears sprang to the Celt's eyes.
A'm thinkin', Maister Carmichael, that it's been hardest on Lachlan." The minister's head was buried in his hands, but his heart was with Marget. "It's a strange buik the Bible, and no the buik we wud hae made, tae judge by oor bit creeds and confessions. It's like a head o' aits in the harvest time.
I h'ard my mither ance say she was some feared Donal micht hae ta'en to makin' sangs himsel'; no 'at there was ony ill i' that, she said, gien there wasna ony ill i' the sangs themsel's; but it was jist some trifflin' like, she said, an' they luikit for better frae Donal, wi' a' his buik lear, an' his Euclid or what ca' they't? nor makin' sangs." "What's Euclid, Nicie?"
It may have been noted that the riming tendency appeared mostly in the start of a speech, and mostly vanished afterwards. "Laird," she said, "ye're in trouble, for ye're sittin' double, an' castna a leuk upo' yer buik.
Na, I'm no blamin Jeemie, Lord; I'm no cryin oot upo him; for ye ken weel hoo little I ken aboot him: he never opened the buik o' his hert to me! Oh God, grant that he hae naething to hide; but gien he has, Lord, pluck it oot o' 'im, and him oot o' the glaur! latna him stick there.
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