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Updated: June 2, 2025
She hath parted with her velvet gown. August 20. I have seen him, and heard his precious words. He hath kist me for us alle. November. Midnight. Dear little Bill hath ta'en a feverish attack. Early in the night his mind wandered, and he says fearfullie, "Mother, why hangs yon hatchet in the air with its sharp edge turned towards us?" I rise, to move the lamp, and say, "Do you see it now?"
"'Fifteen little wooden dolls'! 'Fifteen little woo ." My father dropped into his chair, and sat speechless, opening and shutting his mouth like a fish. "It is here in black and white," said my mother. I found the letter, years after, in her kist.
Milton in his "Hymn on the Nativity," thus alludes to the fable of the Halcyon: "But peaceful was the night Wherein the Prince of light His reign of peace upon the earth began; The winds with wonder whist Smoothly the waters kist Whispering new joys to the mild ocean, Who now hath quite forgot to rave While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave."
"Whaur got Robert Bruce that gran' Bible, Annie, do ye ken?" resumed Thomas, after whitening his hypocrite in silence for a few moments. "That's my Bible, Thomas. Auld Mr Cowie gae't to me whan he was lyin' near-han' deith." "Hm! hm! ay! ay! And hoo cam' 't that ye didna tak' it and pit it i' yer ain kist?" "Maister Bruce tuik it and laid it i' the room as sune's I brocht it hame."
When the good woman at length left them, they uncorded Donal's kist, discovered the cause of its portentous weight, took out everything, put the provisions in a cupboard, arranged the few books, and then sat down by the fire for "a read" together. The hours slipped away; it was night; and still they sat and read.
I wouldn't dirty my hand on 'ee! But get your bit kist, and I'll see ye off the premises. Suspeecious characters are worth the watching." "Suspeecious!" stuttered Gilmour, "suspeecious! Wh-wh-whan was I ever suspeecious? I'll have the law of ye for that. I'll make ye answer for your wor-rds." "Imphm!" said Gourlay. "In the meantime, look slippy wi' that bit box o' yours.
"I dinna ken, nor I dinna care much, either. She's gane awa' frae Pittenloch, and Pittenloch had a gude riddance o' her." "Gane!" "Ay; when your brother Davie cam' here, mair than a year syne, he just bid her pack her kist, and he and Troll Winans took her at daylight next morn to whar' she cam' frae.
"Ye needna speyk like that," returned Mrs Mellis, for Miss Horn's tone was threatening: "I'm no Jean." "What saw ye?" repeated Miss Horn, more gently, but not less eagerly. "Whause is that kist o' mahogany drawers i' that bedroom, gien I may preshume ta spier?" "Whause but mine?" "They're no Jean's?" "Jean's!" "Ye micht hae latten her keep her bit duds i' them, for onything I kent!"
"'Na, na, says Davie, 'but it's the fast day, an' I canna stand it ony longer. I'm gaun ower the burn to hae a whustle. Wasna that fair redeek'lus!" "Quite ingenious," answered Mr. Blake. "You go to that church, I suppose?" "Na, I dinna. I quit it when they brocht the kist o' whustles intill't. I wadna stand it.
Instead thereof he kist her wearie feet, And lickt her lilly hands with fawning tong; As he her wrongéd innocence did weet. O how can beautie maister the most strong, And simple truth subdue avenging wrong! MINOR POEMS. Next to his masterpiece, the Shepherd's Calendar is the best known of Spenser's poems; though, as his first work, it is below many others in melody.
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