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Updated: May 19, 2025
I'm hearin' aboot new-fangled folk that they ca' 'temperance advocates, Maister Ralph, but for my pairt gie me a lang-shankit besom, an' a guid-wife's wullin airm!" These are all the opinions of Saunders Mowdiewort about besom- shanks. Saunders took Ralph's letter to Craig Ronald with him earlier that night than usual, as Ralph had desired him.
A bank of wild thyme lay just beneath Winsome's window, and over it the cows were feeding, blowing softly through their nostrils among the grass and clover till the air was fragrant with their balmy breath. "Guid e'en to ye, 'Cuif," cried Meg Kissock as soon as Saunders Mowdiewort came within earshot.
What for should a learned man rise afore his parritch is made? There maun be something sair wrang," said Saunders Mowdiewort. "Muckle ye ken aboot learned men. I suppose, ye think because ye carry up the Bible, that ye ken a' that's in't," returned Meg, with a sneer of her voice that might have turned milk sour.
"Meet me by the waterside bridge at ten o'clock," she wrote. No word more. Then arose the question of messengers. She went out to find Saunders Mowdiewort; she got him standing at the byre door, looking wistfully about for Meg. "Saunders," she said, "you are to take back this answer instantly to the young Master Peden." "Na, na, Jess, what's the hurry?
It's o' yer last wife's tombstane, wi' the inscriptions the length o' my airm aboot Betty Mowdiewort an' a' her virtues, that Robert Paterson cuttit till ye a year past in Aprile. Na, na, ye'll no get me to leeve a' my life lookin' oot on that ilk' time I wash my dishes. It wad mak' yin be wantin' to dee afore their time to get sic-like.
"Weel," said Saunders Mowdiewort, groping round for a subject of general interest, his profession and his affection being alike debarred, "there's that young Enbra' lad that's come till the manse. He's a queer root, him." "What's queer aboot him?" asked Meg, in a semi-belligerent manner. A young man who had burned his fingers for her mistress's sake must not be lightly spoken of.
"Very likely no but ye hae gien me permission to speak, an' her that's stannin afore yer honourable coort, brawly kens the laws. Elspeth Mowdiewort didna soop yer kirk an wait till yer session meetings war ower for thirty year in my ain man's time withoot kennin' a' the laws.
Winsome only said: "My grandmother is waiting for me. You had better go in at once." "Winsome," said Ralph, trying to prolong the period of his converse with her, "you are not angry with me for writing what I did?" Winsome thought that he was referring to the poem which had come to her by way of Manse Bell and Saunders Mowdiewort.
Then, after a little Saunders Mowdiewort, who was not unmindful of his prearranged programme nor yet oblivious of the flight of time, saw the stars come out, he knew that if he were to make any progress, he must make haste; so he leaned over towards his sweetheart and whispered, "Meg, my lass, ye're terrible bonny."
"Alexander Mowdiewort, ye spak ill o' the minister an' session, o' the kirk an' the wholesome order o' this parish. We have a warrant for your apprehension and appearance which we might, unless moved by penitence and dutiful submission, put in force. Then are ye aware whaur that wad land you i' the jail in Kirkcudbright toon, my man Saunders."
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