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Updated: June 20, 2025
I wud be surer but that I hae thoucht whiles I saw the muckle angels themsels gaein aboot, throu and throu the ondingin flauchter o' the snaw no mony o' them, ye ken, but jist whiles ane and whiles anither, throu amo' the cauld feathers, gaein aye straught wi' their heids up, walkin comfortable, as gien they war at hame in't.
Tam returned to his headquarters full of schemes and bright "thochts." "You drove him down?" said the delighted Blackie. "Why, Tam, it's fine! Müller never goes down you've broken one of his traditions." "A' wisht it was ain of his heids," said Tam.
"It's a kind o' sign among the fouk in our parts, sir," he proceeded, enlightening our ignorance. "And 'e asked me to take his brass for the wife. But ah thowt nowt of it. And we lost oor connectin' files and were nobbut two platoons, and we got it somethin' cruel; the shells were a-skirling like peewits ower our heids. And Ben were knocked over and 'e never said a ward.
"I ken naething else, as the French folk say. But this is a dreidful case of heids or tails. O! if I could but ken where your gentry were!" "Alan," said I, "this is no' like you. It's got to be now or never." "This is no' me, quo' he," sang Alan, with a queer face betwixt shame and drollery, "Neither you nor me, quo' he, neither you nor me, Wow, na, Johnnie man! neither you nor me."
He stopped, as a cannon stops after it has fired, the aroma of battle still pouring from its lips. "What are these papers in your hand?" I asked, not for information, but for breath. "They, sir? Div ye no' ken what's they? They's Doctor Grant's heids and pertikklers. Doctor Grant's heids and pertikklers, I'm tellin' ye. A' o' them but ane is the heids an' pertikklers o' sermons that made St.
I saw in a wink what they were jaloosin'. "Ye needna bather your heids ahoot a cab," says I. "I'm wyser than the twa o' ye puttin' thegither; so keep on your dickies. Gude-nicht," says I; an' doon the front staps I gaed, three at a time, an' hame. The beathel cam' doon afore he gaed hame, an' speered what i' the world had happened.
"I'm neither ghaist nor warlock. Damn ye! gang oot, gin ye be gaun to stick me throu and throu wi' yer een, that gait." "I beg your pardon, Mr Cupples. I didn't mean to be rude," said Alec humbly. "Weel, cut yer stick, I hae eneuch o' ye for ae nicht. I canna stan' glowerin' een, especially i' the heids o' idiots o' innocents like you."
"We're takin' up oor heids aboot a place we may never get till; an', I'm thinkin', it'll be better for's a' to stick in here an' do what's fair an' richt. If we mak' shure o' that, we may lave a' the rest till a higher hand." Mistress Kenawee landit in to see what had come ower Dauvid, an', dear me, when I lookit at the tnock, here, it was five meenits to ten.
When yon lassie was singin' sae bonnie, "John Anderson, my Jo," a' the fowk's heids were hingin'; but at "Scots wha hae" they sat up like life gairds, and ilky body near me lookit like's it wudna be cannie speakin' to them. There was ae thing they sang that wasna on the programme that I thocht awfu' muckle o'. It was something aboot "Tramp! Tramp! Tramp!"
"Sic a couple 's yon twasum wad mak!" she replied, again bursting into gelatinous laughter. "Wha, than? I canna lea' my milk parritch to come an' luik." "Ow! jist Meg Horn, the auld kail runt, an' Sanny Graham, the stickit minister. I wad like weel to be at the beddin' o' them. Eh! the twa heids o' them upon ae bowster!" And chuckling a low chuckle, Mrs Catanach moved for her own door.
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