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Updated: May 14, 2025
"You bear in mind, Master Roger, that every leevin' thing ye see, frae baukie-bird tae blackfish, kens some bit cantrip he doesna tell, and ye'll be a Solomon if ye live." David was eating his bread and cheese on the lee side of the wall when Eleanor came by with a gray lump of clay in her hands. "See what Gwillym has made," she said. David stopped with the cheese half way to his mouth.
She continued the conversation to include Tammy as he came around the kirk on his tapping crutches. "Hoo mony years is it, Tammy, sin' Bobby's been leevin' i' the auld kirkyaird? At Maister Traill's snawy picnic ye war five gangin' on sax." They exchanged glances in which lay one of the happy memories of sad childhoods. "Noo I'm nineteen going on twenty. It's near fourteen years syne, Ailie."
"Jean, tell me all aboot it, an' I'll pit my mind to it and help ye think it oot. Don't ye leave oot a thing fra' the time ye left me till the noo." Slowly Jean poured her sister's tea and handed it to her. "Tak' yer scones while they're hot, Ellen. I went to the place whaur he'd been leevin'. I had the direction all right, but whan I called, I found anither man in possession.
McLeod leaned back on his bench with a satisfied air. "She's doin' fine, the nicht," said he. "Ah'm thinkin', whiles, o' yer auld Seelverhorrns. Whaur is he noo? Awa' up on Higan' Pond, gallantin' around i' the licht o' the mune wi' a lady moose, an' the gladness juist bubblin' in his hairt. Ye're no sorry that he's leevin' yet, are ye, Dud?"
Miles grasped his revolver with a hand that now trembled from increasing weakness, but he was by that time unable to put the weapon on full cock. Despair had well-nigh seized him, when a familiar voice was heard. "This way, lads. I'm sure it was hereabouts that I saw the flash." "Macleod!" gasped Miles, as the big Scotsman was about to pass. "Losh me! John Miles, is that you? Are ye leevin?"
Hech, mon, were ye leevin now, ye might say it at your leisure. DOMINIE McPHAIL. The Dominie was right. It's a lying world. It does not improve with age either. The habit has become chronic, and the worst of all is, that the world has told some lies so often, that it actually now believes them itself. The wretched family propagates, too, at a terrible rate.
Eh, Lord! whan yer ain son cam hame frae his sair warstle an' lang sojourn amo' them 'at kenned na him nor thee, it wasna til an auld shabby man he cam hame, but til the Lord o' glory an' o' micht! An' whan we a' win hame til the Father o' a', it'll be to the leevin' stren'th o' the universe.
There's nae leevin' for a doctor wi' that Drumtochty air; it hasna a marra in Scotland. It starts frae the Moray Firth and sweeps doon Badenoch, and comes ower the moor o' Rannoch and across the Grampians. There's the salt o' the sea, and the caller air o' the hills, and the smell o' the heather, and the bloom o'mony a flower in't.
"They 'ill dae their best, every man o' them, ye may depend on that, an' hed it been open weather there wudna hev been six able-bodied men missin'. "A' wes mad at them, because they never said onything when he wes leevin', but they felt for a' that what he hed dune, an', a' think, he kent it afore he deed.
"In many of the windows there is a box of flowers, or of kitchen herbs to make the broth savory." "It wasna so i' the auld days. It was aye washin's clappin' aboon the stanes. Noo, mony o' the mithers hang the claes oot at nicht. Ilka thing is changed sin' I was a wean an' leevin' i' the auld Guildhall, the bairnies haen Bobby to lo'e, an' no' to be neglectet."
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