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Updated: May 22, 2025
And says Tom, 'In the name o' God, ye'll let me pass; and with the word the gooast draws itsel' doun, all a-creaked, like a man wi' a sudden pain; and Tom Ettles took to his heels more deed than alive." They had approached their heads, and the story had sunk to that mysterious murmur that thrills the listener, when in the brief silence that followed they heard a low odd laugh near the door.
"It is black as pitch," exclaimed Helen, who had risen to draw the bolt; "an' the drift flies sae thick that it feels to the hand like a solid snaw wreath. An', oh, how it lightens?" "Heaven itsel hae mercy on them!" again ejaculated the old man. "My two boys," said he, addressing the widow, "are at the far Frith; an' how can an open boat live in a night like this?"
They argued together; they prayed apart. Lachlan was careful to say nothing, but the congregation felt that his hand was against the minister, and Burnbrae took him to task. "Ye maunna be ower hard on him, Maister Campbell, for he's but young, and comin' on fine. He hes a hearty word for ilka body on the road, and the sicht o' his fresh young face in the poopit is a sermon itsel'."
Wadna ye tak' the rose o' Sharon itsel', nor the fire-reid lilies that made the text for the Saviour's sermon? Ow! na. Ye maun be sober, wi' flooers bonnie eneuch, but smellin' o' the kirkyard raither nor the blue lift, which same's the sapphire throne o' Him that sat thereon."
'Gin he had but the grace o' God, there wadna be muckle to compleen o', acquiesced his grandmother. 'There's time eneuch for that, Mrs. Faukner. Ye canna get auld heids upo' young shoothers, ye ken. ''Deed for that maitter, ye may get mony an auld heid upo' auld shoothers, and nae a spark o' grace in 't to lat it see hoo to lay itsel' doon i' the grave. Robert returned before Mr.
'No to ken a fiddle-case! reflected Shargar, with as much of contempt as it was possible for him to show. 'I tell ye what, Shargar, returned Robert, indignantly; 'ye may ken the box o' a fiddle better nor I do, but de'il hae me gin I dinna ken the fiddle itsel' raither better nor ye do in a fortnicht frae this time. I s' tak' it to Dooble Sanny; he can play the fiddle fine.
"It's no far frae here, I'm thinking." "The Hole of Cree! What is that, then?" "It's a great, muckle hole in the ground that gangs awa' doon so deep that naebody could ever reach the bottom. Indeed there are folk wha says that it's just a door leadin' intae the bottomless pit itsel'." "You have been there, then?" I asked. "Been there!" he cried. "What would I be doin' at the Hole o' Cree?
"Onything to please ye, mother! but I'm fitter nor my father thinks," said James as he settled down again in bed. So Peter went, leaving mother and son silent together. At last the mother spoke. "It's the shame o' 't, Jamie!" she said. "The shame was i' the thing itsel, mother, and in hidin frae that shame!" he answered.
'I come here whiles, she answered, 'to be my lane and read a bit. It's sae quaiet. Eternity seems itsel to come and hide in 't whiles. I'm tempit whiles to bide a' nicht. 'Isna 't awfu' cauld? 'Na, no aften that. It's fine and warm i' the winter. And I can licht a fire whan I like. But ye hae na yer coat on, Francie! I oucht na to hae latten ye bide sae lang!
But we'll come back here, and i' the gloamin', I'll gie ye a bit episode i' my life. Episode did I ca' 'it? Faith it's my life itsel', and no worth muckle, eyther. Ye'll be the first man that ever I tell't it till. And ye may judge o' my regaird for ye frae that fac'." Alec worked away at his catalogue, and then attended the afternoon lecture.
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