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"I was upo' the tap o' the Nose jist as the sun rase, luikin' aboot me, an' awa' upo' the Boar's Tail I saw twa angels sayin' their prayers. Nae doobt they war prayin' for the haill warl' i' the quaiet o' the mornin' afore the din begun. May be ane o' them was that auld priest wi' the lang name i' the buik o' Genesis, 'at hed naither father nor mither, puir man! him 'at gaed aboot blissin' fowk."
'She used to be bonny, that is, as a button or a buckle micht be bonny. What she may be the noo, I dinna ken, for I haena set ee upon her sin' she cam to the Knowe orderin me to sen' back Francie's powny: she was suppercilly eneuch than for twa cornels and a corporal, but no ill luikin. Gien she hae a spot o' beaouty left, the drink 'll tak it or it hae dune wi' her!
"Weel, Robert, I dinna think there's muckle guid in luikin' to what fowk micht or micht not expec' o' ye." "That's jist what I was thinkin' mysel'; for, ye see, I hae a sma' family o' my ain to haud chowin' already." "Nae doot nae doot. But " "Ay, ay; I ken what ye wad say. "Do ye what's richt, Robert Bruce, and sae defy fowk and fairy." "Na, na, that winna aye work.
He's sae used to luikin' up, he's forgotten to luik doon. He bauds his lan' frae a higher than the laird, or the yerl himsel'!" The mother was silent.
The hoose was as fu' as it cud haud, frae cellar to garret, o' the blackest reek 'at ever crap oot o' coal. Oot we ran, an' it was a sicht to see the crater wi' his lang neck luikin' up at the chimleys. But deil a spark cam' oot o' them or reek either, for that maitter. It was easy to see what was amiss.
That wad be jist yallow faced Willie ower again!* Na, na; things gang anither gait up there. My gran'father's a rale guid man, for a' 'at he has a wye o' luikin' at things 'at's mair efter the law nor the gospel."
Sae to hand oot o' their grip, they coonselled thegither, and concludit to gether in a place whaur naebody wud think o' luikin for them whaur but i' the booels o' the earth, whaur they laid their deid awa upo' skelfs, like in an aumry! 'Eh, but that was fearsome! interposed Steenie. 'They maun hae been sair set! Gien I had been there, wud they hae garred me gang wi' them?
"What are ye propheseein' at, Mr Cupples?" said Alec, who did not more than half understand him. "Verra weel. I'm no drunk yet," rejoined Mr Cupples, oracularly. "But that chield Beauchamp's no rainbow that lat me tell ye. He'll do you a mischeef yet, gin ye dinna luik a' the shairper. I ken the breed o' him. He was luikin' at ye throu the window like a hungry deevil. Min' I'm tellin' ye.
"Hoot, laird! nae offence!" returned Mrs Catanach. "I thocht ye was luikin' whaur ye cam frae," returned the man in tones apologetic and hesitating. "'Deed I fash wi' nae sic freits," said Mrs Catanach. "Sae lang's ye ken whaur ye're gaein' till," suggested the man "Toots!
'Of course not. 'Syne ye wad be yer ain God, Mr. Ericson. 'Yes. That would follow. 'I canna imagine a waur hell closed in amo' naething wi' naething a' aboot ye, luikin' something a' the time kennin' 'at it 's a' a lee, and nae able to win clear o' 't. 'It is hell, my boy, or anything worse you can call it. 'What for suld ye believe that, than, Mr. Ericson?
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