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"But I jist want to speir," resumed George, with some asperity, getting rather nettled at his companion's persistent discourtesy, "gin ye believe that Jeames Anderson here, honest man, aneath our feet, crumblin' awa', as ye ken, and no ae spoke o' his wheel to the fore, or lang, to tell what his cart was like do ye believe that his honest face will, ae day, pairt the mouls, an' come up again, jist here, i' the face o' the light, the verra same as it vanished whan we pat the lid ower him?
Oh, wat ye no my heart was sair, When I happit the mouls on his yellow hair; Oh, wat ye no my heart was wae, When I turned about and went my way! Here too hearts have broken, and there is a sacredness in the shadow and beneath these clustering berries of the rowan-trees.
And I wad say for certain, that I am gaun to quit at Cannlemas, only I was just as positive on it twenty years syne, and I find mysell still turning up the mouls here, for a' that. Forbye that, to tell your honour the evendown truth, there's nae better place ever offered to Andrew.
And they'll baith stan' efter you an' me's laid i' the mouls. It's weel kent forbye that ye hae a bit siller i' the bank, and I hae none." "Not a bawbee hae I, George. I can pray for my daily breid wi' an honest hert; for gin the Lord dinna sen' 't, I hae nae bank to fa' back upo'." "I'm sorry to hear 't, Thamas," said George.
Yet the blood of the peoples still flows within Cornish veins; and those characteristics that we vaguely speak of as Celtic often derive from a far earlier source. The little island to the east of Pentire is the Mouls, and to the right is Portquin Bay.
And I wad say for certain, that I am gaun to quit at Cannlemas, only I was just as positive on it twenty years syne, and I find mysell still turning up the mouls here, for a' that. Forbye that, to tell your honour the evendown truth, there's nae better place ever offered to Andrew.
Clifford," remarked this worthy, as he stuck his spade down in the heaped-up earth and leaned upon it, "it's a black day, forbye the summer sun! I never thort I'd a' thrown the mouls on the last Jocelyn. For last he is, an' there'll never be another like 'im!" "You're right there, Wixton," said Robin, sadly "I know the place can never be the same without him. I shall do my best but "
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