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His face an' neck were as yellow's mairyguilds, an' yallower; an' though I've taen washin' soda, an' pooder, an' the very scrubbin' brush till't, Sandy's gaen aboot yet juist like's he was noo oot o' the yallow fivver an' the jaundice thegither. "Ye'll better speer at Saunders what'll tak' it aff," says I till him the ither mornin'.
But the fowk here likes the cry o' 't well eneuch, an' hae 't to wauk them ilka mornin'. Yon was my gran'father ye heard afore I fired the gun. Yon was his pipes waukin' them, honest fowk." "And what made you fire the gun in that reckless way? Don't you know it is very dangerous?" "Dangerous mem my leddy, I mean! There was naething intill 't but a pennyworth o' blastin' pooder.
"The herrin 's like the fowk 'at cairries the mate an' the pooder an' sic like for them 'at does the fechtin'. The hert o' the leevin' man's the place whaur the battle's foucht, an' it's aye gaein' on an' on there atween God an' Sawtan; an' the fish they haud fowk up till 't." "Do you mean that the herrings help you to fight for God?" said Lady Florimel with a superior smile.
"Why not?" demanded the Hottentot angrily, in his broken English; "we be strong as you, and brave." "But you are not so well armed," said Orpin. "Fact," returned the freebooter, "but time vill make dat all squaar. Smugglers bring guns to we, an' pooder. Ver' soon be all right." "Listen, Ruyter, you are like a child. You know nothing.
Juist as I was gaen awa' to screw doon the gas, it gae twa or three lowps, an' oot it gaed; an' afore I kent whaur I was, there was a reeshilin' an' rummelin' on the ruif that wudda nearhand fleggit the very fowk i' the kirkyaird. I floo to my bed, an' in aneth the claes, an' lay for a meenit or so expectin' the cuples wud be doon on the tap o's, an' bruze baith o's to pooder.
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