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Updated: July 15, 2025
"But hoo's a body to ken whether she be ane o' the elec'?" she said, quaking. "That's a hard maitter. It's no needfu' to ken't aforehan'. Jist lat that alane i' the mean time." "But I canna lat it alane. It's no for mysel' aither a'thegither. Could ye lat it alane, Thomas?" This home-thrust prevented any questioning about the second clause of her answer. And Thomas dearly loved plain dealing.
He'll jist tak' the body aff o' me a'thegither, and syne I'll see, no wi' een like yours, but wi' my haill speeritual body. Ye min' that verse i' the prophecees o' Ezakiel: I ken't weel by hert. It says: 'And their whole boady, and their backs, and their han's, and their wings, and the wheels, were full of eyes roon aboot, even the wheels that they four had. Isna that a gran' text?
I'm made so's I ken't endoore to disappoint anyone in his expectations!" She turned deliberately to stare at the silent figure by her side. Certainly he was a fine figure of a man! Her own countrymen who would have travelled so far as to take his place, would have to be giants if the "several sizes" bigger were to be taken in literal earnest.
You've got to think, when you leave this to-day, that a girl's whim is all there is between you and a prison cell. That ought to be a pretty bracing remembrance, I should say. ... Start away with the money you have in hand, and see if you ken't make some more for yourself. There's another thing! You can write to me in a year from now, and tell me where you are, and what you have been about.
I hev got ther blood o' Cain and Abel in my veins, boyee, an' ef I ken't raise the biggest kind o' Cain tain't because I ain't able oh! no. Pace anuther pilgrim?" "I reckon. How much have ye got piled up thar in that heap!" "Squar' ninety tens, my huckleberry, an' all won fa'r, you bet."
It's all in the speerit. Whan ye see't ye'll ken't. There's no fear o' mistakin' that." Teacher and scholar were silent. Annie was the first to speak. She had gained her quest. "Am I to gang hame noo, Thomas?" "Ay, gang hame, lassie, to yer prayers. But I doobt it's dark. I'll gang wi' ye. Jean, my shune!" "Na, na; I could gang hame blinlins," remonstrated Annie. "Haud yer tongue.
"Yes, I live in Canada," was the response. "Canady," said the man. "We're gey prood o' Canady the noo. I ken't a man once wha went to Canady. I had a drink wi' him afore he went," he continued, his eye lighting with the dewy memory, "ye'll likely ken him? Oliver was his name, Wattie Oliver, a bow-leggit wee body." "I cannot say I ever met with him," replied Mr. Blake.
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