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Updated: June 11, 2025
They said it was ane o' the coachmen that was efter Mysie that sawed the lid half throo; an' when Dossie climbed up to hae his crack wi' Mysie at the winda, in he gaed up to the lugs. The story was that Mysie fair lost her chance wi' him, wi' burstin' oot lauchin' when he climbed oot o' the barrel soakin'-dreepin' throo an' throo.
Do ye see nae differ atween chokin' an ill-faured tyke an' chokin' a puir widow's lum?" "'Twas only for fun." "It's ill fun that baith sides canna lauch at, Curly." "Rob Bruce wasna lauchin' whan he brocht the bick to the schuil, nor yet whan he gaed hame again." "That was nae fun, Curly. That was doonricht earnest." "Weel, weel, Alec; say nae mair aboot it." "No more I will.
But I watched him, an' at the henmist verse, when they said terriple quick, "I wudna gie a button for her," I juist edged alang a bittie, an' Sandy's elba missin', he juist exakly landit pargeddis in a fisherwife's lap that was sittin' ahent's. There was plenty o' lauchin' an' clappin' whaur we was, I can tell ye.
You never heard sic lauchin' as there was; an' Sandy's frien' lookit as gin he'd haen a dram, an' gotten an awfu' dose o' cauld. He didna say "guid-mornin'" when he gaed oot at the Toy Brig Station. Sandy had twa-three mair pliskies atween Dundee an' Edinboro, but I hinna time to tell you o' them. Peety the man that starts to write Sandy's beebliographie.
"It was Sandy Claws, 'oman," says he, lauchin'. "He cudna get the box into your stockin', so he juist put your stockin' into the box. But it's juist sax an' half a dizzen, I suppose." I hude up the cake to the licht, an' read oot the braw white sugar letters "'To B. Bowden from a Fiend. But wha's the fiend, Sandy?" says I, I says. "Fiend!" roared Sandy, jumpin' ooten his bed. "Lat's see't."
A pause in the conversation, which was not for some time interrupted, here ensued. After a short while, however, it was again broken in upon. "Whisht! whisht! Back, Davy, back!" "There's somebody comin. I hear folk speakin and lauchin in the garden."
"'Drumtochty, a' said, 'an' we hev juist ae man as sma' as you in the hale Glen. "He gied awa' lauchin' like tae split his sides, an' the fac' is there's no ane o' them asks me a question but he lauchs. They're a licht-headed fouk, and no sair educat. But we maunna boast; they hevna hed oor advantages." The minister made a brave effort to assert himself.
I turned roond to the dresser-heid, no' to lat him see me lauchin' for I cudna keep it in an' pretendit to be lookin' for something. "It is so, Bawbie," says he; an' I noticed him i' the lookin'-gless pettin' his thoom till his nose. I whiskit roond aboot gey quick, an' he drappit his hands like lichtnin', an' began whistlin' "Tillygorm."
"Noo, juist see an' mak' yersels a' at hame," said Mistress Mikaver, in her uswal fizzy kind o' wey. "An', as the auld sayin' is, gin ye dinna like what's set doon, juist tak' what ye brocht wi' ye," says Mistress Winton, an' set's a' to the lauchin'. You never heard sic a cratur for thae auld-farrant sayin's; an' Mysie's no' far ahent.
A man 'at can hae a' the fish i' the haill ocean for the takin' o' them, to be sic a sneck drawin' contemptible wratch as tak yer lordship's bonny hen craturs frae their chuckies no to mention the sin o't! it's past an honest man's denyin', my lord. An' Maister MacPherson kens better, for luik at him lauchin' in 's ain sleeve."
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