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Updated: June 22, 2025
"A' never saw the marrow o' 't, Tammas, an' a' 'll never see the like again; it's a' ower, man, withoot a hitch frae beginnin' tae end, and she's fa'in' asleep as fine as ye like." "Dis he think Annie 'ill live?" "Of course he dis, and be aboot the hoose inside a month; that's the gude o' bein' a clean-bluided, weel-livin' "Preserve ye, man, what's wrang wi' ye?
But they tell me he's a quieter lad since the war, as sair lamed by fa'in oot o' an airyplane." "Will he be at the Mains just now?" Dickson asked. "I wadna wonder. He has a muckle place in England, but he aye used to come here in the back-end for the shootin' and in April for birds. He's clean daft about birds.
"The evenin' licht, sir," he answered at length; "for ye see the sun's deem' like, an' deith's like a fa'in asleep, an' the grave's the bed, an' the sod's the bedclaes, an' there's a lang nicht to the fore." "Are ye sure o' that, Malcolm?" "It's the wye folk thinks an' says aboot it, sir." "Or maybe doesna think, an' only says?" "Maybe, sir; I dinna ken."
"Nae jist stan'in' still a'thegither." "That's weel. Ye haena been fa'in' asleep again ower the guddlet carcass o' an auld pauper hae ye?" Alec stared. He had never told any one of his adventure in the dissecting-room. "I saw ye, my man. But I wasna the only ane that saw ye.
An' maybe the fear o' death comes i' the same way: we're feared at it 'cause we're no a'thegither ready for 't; but whan the richt time comes, it'll be as nat'ral as fa'in' asleep whan we're doonricht sleepy. Gin there be a God to ca' oor Father in heaven, I'm no thinkin' that he wad to sae mony bonny tunes pit a scraich for the hinder end.
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