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Updated: May 5, 2025
"He's a man well on to seventy," answered Cosmo, with a pang at the thought. "Ay; that'll be aboot it! There can be no doobt it was his father oor lord killt an' as little 'at efter he did it he gaed doon the braid ro'd to the deevil as fest's ever he cud rin. It was jist like as wi' Judas he maun gang till's ain.
"Eh, sirs!" he said, having accomplished this task, "look out yonder, Milnwood; saw ye ever mortal fight like the deevil Claver'se? Yonder he's been thrice doun amang them, and thrice cam free aff. But I think we'll soon be free oursells, Milnwood. Inglis and his troopers look ower their shouthers very aften, as if they liked the road ahint them better than the road afore."
"A' daurna say yea, Bell, muckle as a' wud like, for this is an evil disease, cunnin' an' treacherous as the deevil himsel', but a' winna say nay, sae keep yir hert frae despair. "It wull be a sair fecht, but it 'ill be settled one wy or anither by sax o'clock the morn's morn.
"Och deevil burn ye," interrupted Mistress Wheelwright, "if ye go on at that rate, I'll tell his honor of the pig ye stole, you and Tim Martin, ye did." "Och Murther," cried Mistress Pettit, "that a dacent woman like I should be charged with staling along with such a spalpeen as Tim Martin, your honor." Whereupon up started Tim Martin, exclaiming
"'Twould not be serving her," I answered indignantly. "Ye're an obstinate little deevil!" he cried, and, dropping the morsel on the freshly cut stump, he stalked away. I ran after him, crying out, but he leaped on the raft that was already in the stream and began to pole across. I slipped the piece into my own hunting shirt.
"If a am at all a joodge of pheesogs, and a flatter meself a am," said a raw-boned Scotch Captain of Grenadiers, measuring six feet two in his stockings, "yon geerl has a bit of the deevil in her ee, therefor, me lads, tak heed that nane o' ye lose yer heerts to her." "Why not, Cranstoun?" asked a young officer.
"That makes nae difference, man," replied Sharpitlaw "the dress, the light, the confusion, and maybe a touch o' a blackit cork, or a slake o' paint-hout, Ratton, I have seen ye dress your ainsell, that the deevil ye belang to durstna hae made oath t'ye." "And that's true, too," said Ratcliffe.
Sharpitlaw, I'll be frank wi' ye; Robertson is rather a cut abune me a wild deevil he was, and mony a daft prank he played; but except the Collector's job that Wilson led him into, and some tuilzies about run goods wi' the gaugers and the waiters, he never did onything that came near our line o' business." "Umph! that's singular, considering the company he kept."
He's a red-wad deevil, man He's like Giles Heathertap's auld boar; ye need but shake a clout at him to make him turn and gore. Bide wi' him, say ye? Troth, I kenna what for I bide wi' him mysell. But the lad's no a bad lad after a'; and he needs some carefu' body to look after him.
"Perfect love casteth oot fear, 'cause there's nae room for the twa o' them; and I daursay it wad be the same wi' the temper." "But I'm no gaein' to gie in to bein' ill-natert for a' that," said Thomas, as if alarmed at the possible consequences of the conclusion. "Na na. Resist ye the deevil, Thamas. Haud at him, man. He's sure to rin at the lang last.
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