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Updated: August 31, 2025
"Bobby wullna be lanely here wi' the coos, bairnie, an' i' the morn ye can tak' a bit rope an' haud it in a wee hand so he canna brak awa', an' syne, in a day or twa, he'll be forgettin' Auld Jock. Ay, ye'll hae grand times wi' the sonsie doggie, rinnin' an' loupin' on the braes."
I laughed. "It's well seen she hasn't been brought up in Scotland, or she would know it was the bounden duty of the girls in the house to wait on the boys." "An' a hantle better it is than to see the laddies aye rinnin' efter the lasses, tendin' them han' an' fut as they dae here. When a man comes hame efter his d'y's wark, he should be let sit on his sate, an' hae a' things dune for him."
"But, Sanders, ye canna deny but what your rinnin oot o' the kirk that awfu' day was at the bottom o'd a'." "It was so," said Sanders bravely. "An' ye used to be fond o' Bell, Sanders." "I dinna deny't." "Sanders, laddie," said Sam'l, bending forward and speaking in a wheedling voice, "I aye thocht it was you she likit." "I had some sic idea mysel," said Sanders.
There's ower mony nesty imps o' boys, rinnin' an' cloddin' stanes at puir Jock, forby caa'in' him names. Syne he loses his temper wi' them an' then he micht do them an injury an' get himsel' intil the gaol. Na, na, when Jock sees the blue smoor o' Auld Reeky gaun up into the lift he'll turn an' gae hame." "Well, Jock," said Ralph, "it behooves me to see Mistress Winsome before I go.
"Gin ye want a wife, Saunders, ye'll hae to look oot for a deef yin, for it's no ony or'nar' woman that could stand yer mither's tongue. Na, Saunders, it wad be like leevin' i' a corn-mill rinnin' withoot sheaves." "Meg," said Saunders, edging up cautiously, "I hae something to gie ye!" "Aff wi' ye, Cuif!
Na, na, she kens withoot even turnin' her heid. She kenned by yer verra fit as ye cam' up the yaird. She's maybe stirrin' something i' the pat. She turns roon' wi the pat-stick i' her haund. 'I'll dawtie ye, my man! she says, an' WHANG, afore ye ken whaur ye are, the pat-stick is acquant wi' the side o' yer heid. 'I'll dawtie ye, rinnin' rakin' to the public-hoose wi' yer hard-earned shillin's.
'But I div won'er ye're no fleyt! 'Fleyt! rejoined Steenie; 'what for wud I be fleyt? What is there to be fleyt at? I never was fleyt at face o' man or wuman na, nor o' beast naither! I was ance, and never but that ance, fleyt at the face o' a bairn! 'And what for that, Steenie? 'He was rinnin efter his wee sister to lick her, and his face was the face o' a deevil.
Eh, but he's a fearsome sicht whan he's ta'en that gait!" continued the speaker. "I met him ance i' the gloamin', jist ower by the toon, wi' his een glowerin' like uily lamps, an' the slaver rinnin' doon his lang baird. I jist laup as gien I had seen the muckle Sawtan himsel'." "He's jist as hairmless, e'en at the warst, as ony lamb.
"She's some ill for rinnin' oot," said Bruce, with soft words addressed to Dow, and a cutting look flung at Annie, "withoot speirin' leave, and we dinna ken whaur she gangs; and that's no richt for lass-bairns." "Never ye min' her, Mr Bruce," replied Dow. "I ken her better nor you, no meanin' ony offence, seein' she was i' my airms afore she was a week auld.
"Weel, mem, I wad jist like to speir what waur it is to fancy yersel' a burn, than to fancy the burn a body, ae time singin' an' chatterin', an' the neist growlin' an' grum'lin'." "Well, but, Donal, can a man be a burn?" "Weel, mem, no at least no i' this warl', an' at 'is ain wull. But whan ye're lyin' hearkenin' to the burn, did ye never imagine yersel' rinnin' doon wi' 't doon to the sea?"
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