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Updated: June 23, 2025
"It turnt oot, or cam to be said,'at the Englishman 'at fowk believed to hae killt him, was far-awa' sib to the faimily, an' the twa had come thegither afore, somewhaur i' foreign pairts. But that's naither here nor there, nor what for he killed him, or wha's faut was that same: aboot a' that, naething was ever kent for certain.
"Thin you may learn from what has happened, avick agus asthofe, never, oh never, to despair of God's mercy no matter into what thrial or difficulty you maybe brought. You see, whin you naither hoped for it here, nor expected it, how it came for all that." "It did, blessed be God!"
But seein' he 's naither i' the image o' her 'at bore 'im nor him 'at got 'im, but beirs on 's back, for ever in her sicht, the sin 'at was the gettin' o' 'in, he's a' hump to her, an' her hert's aye howkin a grave for 'im to lay 'im oot o' sicht intill she bore 'im, an' she wad beery 'im.
If any one spqke to Owen about the chances of rain coming down to where they slept, his universal answer was, "Shure we're naither shugar nor salt, anyhow; an' a dhrop ov or a thrifle ov wind, was niver known to do any body harm barrin' it brought the typhus; but God's good, an' ordhers all for the best."
"A month syne there wesna a stronger man in the Glen than Saunders, an' noo he wes juist a bundle o' skin and bone, that naither saw nor heard, nor moved nor felt, that kent naethin' that was dune tae him.
"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 begud. Maybe ane 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."
"But," the watchmaker continued, almost running to keep up with him, and speaking in a low, harsh, hurried voice, as if thrusting the words into his ears, "naither mair nor less nor solid gowd pure gowd, no a grain o' alloy!" That said, he turned, went back at the same speed, shot himself into his cottage, and closed the door. The father and son stopped, and looked at each other for a moment.
"I'm the rantin' Cannie Soogah." "Ha! the Jolly Pedlar! Throw open the window, Fergus, till we have a chat with him. Well, my rantin' Cannie Soogah, how are you?" "Faith, your honor, I'm jist betwixt and between, as they say naither betther nor worse, but mixed middlin', like the praties in harvest. However, it's good to be any way at all in these times; so thank God my head's on my body still."
"It might become necessary to use force whereas you could lead him with a word." "Na; I'm naither sic witch nor sic traitor." "Where would be the treachery when you knew it would be for his good?" "That's jist what I dinna ken, mem," retorted Malcolm.
I'm no to be drawn into onything 'at I dinna ken a' aboot aforehan'. I s' no tie mysel' up wi' ony promises. "Nae doobt," said Malcolm, "yer ain jeedgement 's mair to ye nor my word, Girnel; but saw ye ever onything in me 'at wad justifee ye in no lippenin' to that sae far 's it gaed?" "Ow na! I'm no sayin' that naither. But what ha'e ye to shaw anent the privin' o' 't?"
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