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Weel-a-weel, we landit at Edinboro, an Meg was waitin's, an' as mony bairns wi' her as wudda startit a raggit schule although they were a' braw an' snod, I ashure ye. "Keep me, Meg," said Sandy, efter he'd shaken hands wi' her, "is thae a' your litlans? Dod, sic a cleckin!" The ass that he is! I saw Meg chowl her chafts gey angry like, an' I took Sandy a doish i' the back wi' my umberell.
I tell'd the landlord hoo the thing happened, an' next mornin' at brakfast time you never heard sic lauchin'. A' the chaps were clappin' Sandy on the shuder; an' ane o' them says "Ay, man; it's no mony fowk that tak's their lum hat an' their umberell to their bed wi' them." But the auld skipper was the king amon' them a'. Hoo he raggit Sandy aboot bein' a somnambulashinist or something.