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Updated: June 9, 2025
My only houp lies in a doobt a doobt, that is, whether I had ever come til a knowledge o' the trowth or hae yet! Maybe no!" "Laddie, ye're no i' yer richt min'. It's fearsome to hearken til ye!" "It'll be waur to hear me roarin wi' the rich man i' the lowes o' hell!" "Peter! Peter!" cried Marion, driven almost to distraction, "here's yer ain son, puir fallow, blasphemin like ane o' the condemned!
By the end of his civilization he had discovered that a man cannot enjoy himself and continue to enjoy anything else. Mr. Lowes Dickinson has pointed out in words too excellent to need any further elucidation, the absurd shallowness of those who imagine that the pagan enjoyed himself only in a materialistic sense.
Lowes Dickinson speaks of them as if they were parallel ideals even speaks as if Paganism were the newer of the two, and the more fitted for a new age.
Did they, perhaps, being wearied of the somewhat tame sport of baiting him, think the opportunity a fitting one to get rid of their uninvited guest for good and all? In any case, before an hour had passed, Leehall found it convenient to hand Lowes over to Stokoe, who safely deposited him by his own fireside at Willimoteswick, and the feud was pursued no further.
Rebecca did not fear the form of punishment administered her and she had the cunning to keep "on the good side of the master" who had a fondness for her "because she was so much like the Lowes." The mistress' demand that she be sold or beaten was always turned aside with "Dear, you know the child can't help it; its that cursed Cherokee blood in her."
This virtue cannot be questioned in its capacity as a historical symbol; certainly Mr. Lowes Dickinson will not question it. It has been the boast of hundreds of the champions of Christianity. It has been the taunt of hundreds of the opponents of Christianity. It is, in essence, the basis of Mr. Lowes Dickinson's whole distinction between Christianity and Paganism.
The wood-smoke hangs in wisps on the hot air, and the song of the boys bringing home the cattle comes to me distinctly in the stillness. The sunset colours are fading into the deep blue of the Indian night, and the faithful are being called to prayer. At home they are burning the whins on the hillsides, and the Loch o' the Lowes lies steel-grey under the March sky.
"They were round us, that night, evil spirits and evil beasts, and they would be lifting the thatch from the roof; and we went out, the dogs and me, and a' the great rocks on the hillside would be jumbling and jarring thegether, for all the evil ones were loose from the pit, and tumbling the hills, and setting them straight, and the blue lowes were rissling on the hill-tops.
Moreover the Northampton witches boasted that "their Master would not suffer them to be executed." No Chelmsford witch had made that boast; but Mr. Lowes, who was executed at Bury St. It will be seen that these are close resemblances both in characteristic features and in wording. But the most perfect resemblance is in a confession.
Something lingering and long was more to his taste; he would make Lowes "eat dirt." With every mark, therefore, of ignominy and contempt, he dragged his fallen foe home to Leehall, and there chained him near to the kitchen fire-place, leaving just such length of chain loose as would enable the prisoner to sit with the servants at meals.
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