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Updated: May 17, 2025
Old Allister, your creat her own crandfather, was ta pest horseman ta worlt efer saw, and he'll nefer pe hafing ta trews to his own lecks nor ta saddle to his horse's pack. He'll chust make his men pe strap on an old plaid, and he'll be kive a chump, and away they wass, horse and man, one peast, aal two of tem poth together."
I will haf your bromise, your sacred wort of honour, before I will gollaborate again, that you will no more blay with me these farces. I like you, yourself, Armstrong. I am very font of you. I haf a very creat atmiration for your worg. But you haf not been reliaple. You haf no right to resent what I am sayink.
"Something like that. We 'll see how it goes. If he does n't like it, he can drop it. It 's more that I want to have him about me than anything else. I want to do something for him when I have a chance. I like him." "My lort will pe toing ta laad a creat honour," said Duncan. "Put," he added, with a sigh, "she 'll pe lonely, her nainsel!"
"She hopes you'll pe forgifing ta plind old man, however. She couldn't see, or she would haf known at once petter." "I dinna ken what ye're efter noo, daddy," said Malcolm. "That she'll do you a creat wrong, and she'll be ferry sorry for it, my son." "What wrang did ye ever du me, daddy?" "That she was let you crow up a Cam'ell, my poy.
Hist. of Creat.," he, in a geological scala, which closes with the human period, even divides the whole past, present, and future history of mankind into two halves: first part, dualistic period of culture; second part, monistic period of culture.
And I have creat respects for Palfour," he added. "I thank you for your honest expressions," said I. Whereupon Duncansby made his bow to the company, and left the chamber, as we had agreed upon before. "What have I to do with this?" says Prestongrange. "I will tell your lordship in two words," said I. "I have brought this gentleman, a King's officer, to do me so much justice.
But he had not slept more than five minutes when he sprung from the bed, wide awake, crying "My poy, Malcolm! my son! you haf let her sleep in; and ta creat peoples will be impatient for her music, and cursing her in teir hearts!"
The marquis took the proffered hand kindly: "I have come to apologise," he said. "Not one vord more, my lort, I peg," interrupted Duncan. "My lort is come, out of his cootness, to pring her a creat kift; for he'll pe hearing of ta sad accident which pefell her poor pipes one efening lately. Tey was ferry old, my lort, and easily hurt."
So it's all fery well, and if you will only pe putting your mouth in ta Gaelic shape often enough, ta sounds will soon pe taking ta shape of it, and ta vorts will be coming trough ta mists, and pefore you know, you'll pe peing a creat credit to your cranfather, my boy, Malcolm."
"I'm thinking ye are right, Junkie. An' the creat thing to know iss where the ledges lie. He keeps well back from the watter also. There maun be somethin' in that, what-e-ver. Ye wull be tryin' it yoursel' the morn, maype." To this Junkie vouchsafed no reply, for the fisher, having secured his fish, was proceeding further up stream.
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