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I'll sit like Deith i' the spectre-bark, and blaw intil his sails a' that I can blaw. Maybe ye dinna ken that verse i' The Rhyme o' the Ancient Mariner? It was left oot o' the later editions: 'A gust of wind sterte up behind, And whistled through his bones; Through the holes of his eyes and the hole of his mouth, Half-whistles and half-groans. There! that's spicy�-for them 'at likes ghaistry."
Do you remember the half-whistles and half-groans through the key-holes and crevices, the cries and shrieks that rise and fall, the roaring in the chimney, the slamming of distant doors and shutters? Well, all this seemed to be suggested in the ringing of the iron cord. The very leaves, green and dewy, and the delicate branches, seemed to quiver as the dreary message passed.
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