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'Na! hev I? said Robert, putting up his hand. 'But I maun gang there's nae help for 't, he added. 'Gin I cud only win to my ain room ohn Betty seen me! That's a sair vex. 'Never mind it, returned Miss St. John, smiling. 'It is of no consequence. But you must come with me. I must see what I can do for your head. Poor boy! 'Eh, mem! but ye are kin'! Gin ye speik like that ye'll gar me greit.
"Dinna ye think, my leddy," said Malcolm, "ye had better mak for the hoose? What wi' the win' an' the weet thegither, ye'll be gettin' yer deith o' cauld. I s' gang wi' ye sae far, gien ye'll alloo me, jist to baud it ohn blawn ye awa'." The wind suddenly fell, and his last words echoed loud in the vaulted sky.
'Lordsake, man! hae ye gotten her again? Gie's a grup o' her! he cried, dropping leather and hammer. 'Na, na, returned Robert, retreating towards the outer door. 'Ye maun sweir upo' her that, whan I want her, I sall hae her ohn demur, or I sanna lat ye lay roset upo' her.
An' for that bonnie wuman, Mistress Scletter, ye can tell her, 'at by the time I hae onything to say to the warl', it winna be my claes 'at'll haud fowk ohn hearkent; an' gien she considers them 'at I hae noo, ower sair a disgrace till her gran' rooms, she maun jist no inveet me, an' I'll no come; for I canna presently help them.
"Sir," said Malcolm, seriously, "ye dinna mean what ye say? Ye said yersel' she wad be the deith o' somebody, an' to sell her ohn tell't what she's like wad be to caw the saxt comman'ment clean to shivers." "That may be good doctrine i' the kirk, my lad, but it's pure heresy i' the horse market. No, no! You buy a horse as you take a wife for better for worse, as the case may be.
"Say ye that, laddie?" cried Miss Horn, and, starting up, she grasped his arm and stood gazing in his face. "What ither sud I say?" rejoined Malcolm, surprised. "God be laudit!" exclaimed Miss Horn. "The limmer may say 'at she likes noo." "Ye dinna believe 't than, mem?" cried Malcolm. "Tell me ye dinna, an' haud me ohn curst like a cadger."
"Father," said James, "I thank God that noo ye ken a'! Eh, sic a weicht as it taks aff o' me! I'll be hale and weel noo in ae day! I think I'll gang wi' ye to Isy, mysel! But I'm a wee bit sorry ye cam in jist that minute! I wuss ye had harkit a wee langer! For I wasna giein-in to my mother; I was but thinkin hoo to say oot what was in me, ohn vext her waur nor couldna be helpit.
Doch lass’ ich, wenn mir’s Kurzweil schafft, Die Hülfe fleh’nden Armen Durch meinen Schweitzer, Peter Kraft, Zerprügeln ohn’ Erbarmen.” Goeckingk openly satirizes the sentimental cult in the poem “Der Empfindsame”
I think he may be whiles ane an' whiles the ither, an' whiles maybe it wad be ill to say whilk. Oor collie's whiles in twa min's whether he'll du what he's telled or no." "That's the battle of Armageddon, Sheltie, my man. It's aye ragin', ohn gun roared or bayonet clashed. Ye maun up an' do yer best in't, my man.
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