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Updated: June 5, 2025
"Eh, ye cratur!" he cried; and darting to the bed, he took Gibbie's face between his hands, and said, in a voice to which pity and sympathy gave a tone like his mother's, "Whaten a deevil was't 'at lickit ye like that? Eh! I wuss I had the trimmin' o' him!" Gibbie smiled. "Has the ill-guideship ta'en the tongue frae 'im, think ye?" asked the mother.
"Ha!" cries Glasgow; "that's a hit, sir, and one that didna' occur to my mind! Now, M'Nab, how say ye to this? Why the deevil didna' ye keep yer ground that time ye had it all yer ain way, and no be lettin' strangers win it clean frae ye?" "Ta' Gaelic was ta language o' Wallace and o' Bruce, and of Cyrus, who came before them," urged the Gael, hotly, "and who will say thae were easy to beat?"
"Awa' wi' ye!" he cried again, yet more wrathfully, " or " He raised his hand. Clare looked in his eyes and did not budge. "For shame, John!" expostulated the cook. "Would you strike a child?" "I'm no child, cook!" said Clare. "He can't hurt me much. I've had a good breakfast!" "Lat 'im tak' awa' that deevil o' a tyke o' his, as I tauld him," thundered the gardener, "or I'll mak" a pulp o' 'im!"
Bid them to Radley's, McPhee, an' send me the bill. Thank Dandie, here, man. I'm no used to thanks. Then he turned him round. "'Preserve 's! I said, clean jumped oot o' mysel'. 'I was but thinkin' you're fey, McRimmon. "Dod, the auld deevil laughed till he nigh sat down on Dandie. 'Send me the bill, says he. 'I'm long past champagne, but tell me how it tastes the morn.
But 'no, sis John Bull, the knowledge of our own buddies, and how to save our own Bakin Beef I mean day by day, from disease and chartered ass-ass-ins, all that may interest the thinkers in Saturn, but what the deevil is it t' us?
Diana I tell you hoo, whan I wan hame at last and gaed til her, for she was aye guid to me when I wasna weel, she fell oot upo' me like a verra deevil, ragin and ca'in me ill names, 'at I jist ran frae the hoose and ye ken whaur ye faun' me! Gien it hadna been for you, I wud have been deid: I was waur nor deid a'ready! What w'y can I be neebour to her!
Ramblin' Peter had made a bold assault on a dragoon at the beginning of the fray, but could do nothing with his poor maimed hands, and was easily secured. "Let him taste the thumbscrews," growled Glendinning savagely, and pointing to Black. "Dae yer warst, ye born deevil," said Black recklessly for oppression driveth even a wise man mad. "Very good fetch the boot," said the sergeant.
Callum also stood at the gate and enjoyed, with undissembled glee, the ridiculous figure of Mr. Cruickshanks. As Waverley passed him he pulled off his hat respectfully, and, approaching his stirrup, bade him 'Tak heed the auld whig deevil played him nae cantrip.
"I've faught on land, I've faught at sea, At hame I faught my aunty, O; But I met the deevil and Dundee On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O. An' ye had been where I had been, Ye wad na be sae cantie, O; An' ye had seen what I ha'e seen On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O."
"Then, what the deevil d'ye take the nominative and the dative cases to be?" said Butler, hastily, and surprised at once out of his decency of expression and accuracy of pronunciation. "I'll tell you that at leisure, Mr. Butler," said Saddletree, with a very knowing look; "I'll take a day to see and answer every article of your condescendence, and then I'll hold you to confess or deny as accords."
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