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Updated: June 23, 2025
"Well, John, this is a fine day for your delving work." "Ay, it's a tolerable day, sir." "Are you thankful in heart, John, for such temporal mercies as these?" "Aw doubt we're a' ower little thankfu', sir, baith for temporal an' speeritual mercies; but it isna aye the maist thankfu' heart that maks the greatest fraze wi' the tongue." "I hope there is nothing personal under that remark, John?"
I might hae broken my neck; but troth it was in a venture, mae ways nor ane; but this maks amends for a'. Lady Wauverley! ten thousand a year! Lord be gude unto me! 'But you forget, Mr. Macwheeble, we want the Baron's consent the lady's 'Never fear, I'se be caution for them; I'se gie you my personal warrandice.
As sune 's it comes to ony fechtin', up he gets, an' gangs stridin' aboot the flure; an' whiles he maks a claucht at 's claymore; an' faith! ance he maist cawed aff my heid wi' 't, for he had made a mistak aboot whaur I was sittin'." "What's a claymore?" "A muckle heelan' braidswoord, my leddy. Clay frae gladius verra likly; an' more 's the Gaelic for great: claymore, great sword.
"A tall, black wumman, spare an' erect, no ill-faured nor ill-made; na, na, a 'll alloo that; a trig, handy cummer, wi' an eye like a hawk an' a voice like pussy; nane o' yir gossipin', haverin', stravaigin' kind. He 'll be clever 'at gets onything out o' her or maks much o' a bargain wi' her.
David rolled himself round on his face, and took a look at the bluish patch on the heather. 'It hasna got naw name, he said, at a venture. 'Then yo're a stoopid, for it has, replied Louie, triumphantly. 'It's t' Mermaid Pool. Theer wor a Manchester mon at Wigsons' last week, telling aw maks o' tales.
Well, one day i' lambing-time, he were warr nor he'd iver been afore; he knew that I were thrang wi' all maks o' wark, but nowt that I could do for him were reet. So at last, when I'd fmished my milking i' the mistal, I got him to bed, and then I sat misen down by the fire and had a reet good roar. I were tired to death, and wished that I'd niver been born.
Because I felt that as a meen-ister o' the Established Kirk, I was bound to be a sort o' heep-ocrite, ony thinkin', reasonable man wi' a conscience canna be otherwise wi' they folk, and ye ken, Errington, there's something in your wife's look that maks a body hesitate before tellin' a lee.
The Earl's son met me one day, aboot that time, i' the Tenements, and he didna ken 'at Chirsty was deid, an' I'd married again. 'Well, Haggart, he says, in his frank wy, 'and how is your wife? 'She's vara weel, sir, I maks answer, 'but she's no the ane you mean." "Na, he meant Chirsty," said Hendry. "Is that a' the story?" asked T'nowhead. Tammas had been looking at us queerly.
Rouch wark maks the han's rouch, and rouch words maks the hert rouch." "The haill country-side 'ill be gratefu' to ye, Aggie. Ye'll lat me come an' see ye whiles?" "Nane sae welcome," answered Aggie. "But wull ye be bidin' on, noo 'at ye haena him 'at's gane? Winna ye be gaein' awa', to write buiks, an' gar fowk fin' oot what's the maitter wi' them?"
He's a man noo, and weel luikit upo'; but it maks unco little differ to his parents! He's jist as dour as ever, and as far as man could weel be frae them he cam o'! never a word to the ane or the ither o' 's! Gien we war twa dowgs, he couldna hae less to say til's, and micht weel hae mair!
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