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Updated: May 27, 2025
Do 'at he like, Beauchamp's dirk couldna hurt ye sae muckle as yer ain han', whan ye liftit the first glass to yer ain mou' the nicht. Ye hae despised a' my warnings. And sorrow and shame'll come o' 't. And I'll hae to beir a' the wyte o' 't. Yer mither'll jist hate me like the verra black taed that no woman can bide. Gang awa' to yer bed. I canna bide the sicht o' ye."
He belonged to the International Society of Aquafortistes. He worked in aquatint and successfully revived the old process, vernis mou. A sober workman, he spent at least fourteen hours a day at his desk. Being musical, he designed some genre pieces, notably that of the truthfully observed Bassoonist.
Mr Stewart yielded, but nervous starts and sudden twitches of the muscles betrayed his uneasiness: it looked as if his body would jump up and run without his mind's consent. "Nane 'at I ken o'," answered Phemy. "But there's heaps o' hidy holes i' the inside o' 't." "That's a' very weel; but gien they keppit the mou' an' took their time till 't, they bude to grip ye."
"But all men die whether they have found the truth or not, urged the questioner; what then is the difference between them? "That, replied Mou, is like considering your reward before you have put in right conduct for a single day. If a man has found the truth, even though he dies, his spirit will go to heaven; if he has led an evil life his spirit will suffer everlastingly.
She was greitin' about a bairnie she had lost, an' I kent weel whaur the bairnie was doon in a cave upo' the shore, I thoucht an' was jist yirnin' to gang till her an' tell her, an' stop the greitin' o' her hert, but I cudna muv han' nor fit, naither cud I open my mou' to cry till her. An' I gaed dreamin' on at the same thing ower an' ower, a' the time I was asleep.
They don't resemble, besides, the ballads encountered in the 'Hsi Hsiang Chi, and 'Mou Tan T'ing, to justify us to fear that we might be setting eyes upon some corrupt text. They are quite harmless; so we'd better keep them!" Pao-ch'ai, after these arguments, dropped at length all discussion. They thereupon tried for a time to guess the stanzas.
Presently the voice of the preacher came to him in wafts, at the wind's will, as by the opening and shutting of a door; wild spasms of screaming, as of some undiscerned gigantic hill-bird stirred with inordinate passion, succeeded to intervals of silence; and Francie heard them with a critical ear. 'Ay, he thought at last, 'he'll do; he has the bit in his mou' fairly.
When the table had been cleared by Betty, they drew their chairs to the fire, and Robert had to read to his grandmother, while Shargar sat listening. He had not read long, however, before he looked up from his Bible and began the following conversation: 'Wasna it an ill trick o' Joseph, gran'mither, to put that cup, an' a siller ane tu, into the mou' o' Benjamin's seck? 'What for that, laddie?
Thomas resumed: "He jist wants what ye want, Gleorge Macwha." "What's that, Thamas?" asked George, with a grim attempt at a smile, as if to say: "I know what's coming, but I'm not going to mind it." "He jist wants to be weel shaken ower the mou' o' the pit. He maun smell the brunstane o' the everlastin' burnin's.
Cuthbert's ring like the wood on an August nicht when the thunder roams it. That ither ane he preach't in a graun city kirk wha soucht to get him, and they cudna an' it was croodit like the barn mou' when harvest's dune, an' I was there masel', an' he kent me an' I'm the man that held his cane in ma haun the time he preach't, I'm tellin' ye."
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