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Updated: May 17, 2025
When I gaed to the door, here he was wi' a thing atween the shafts o' his cairt that lookit like's it had been struck wi' forkit lichtnin'. "What hae ye dune wi' Donal', Sandy?" I speered. "Cadger Gowans an' me's haen a swap," says Sandy, climbin' oot at the back o' the cairt, an' jookin' awa' roond canny-weys to the horse's heid. "Wo, Princie," he says, pettin' oot his hand.
The ham dip gaed up the lum in a gloze, an' here was Sandy an' Dauvid's wife lyin' i' the middle o' a' the mairter o' rubbitch. Mistress Kenawee's face, puir thing, was as white as a cloot; but Sandy's was as black as the man More o' Vennis, the bleckie that smored his wife i' the theatre for carryin' on wi' a sodger. What a job Dauvid an' me had gettin' them roond.
He'll be hevvin' his meetin's in Jenny's hoose, and Jimmy'll be preachin' afore lang. Ther'll be fine scenes if it's not throttled i' the bud." "Get away, man," said Ned; "they're the biggest blackguards roond the countryside, and they'll steal, rob, or morder, whichivver comes handiest. What d'ye think that fellow Jimmy did once?
"Wud ye bide i' the kirk for ten meenits till I rin hame for a bissam shaft?" says he. "I've broken the ane I have." "Oo, ay," says I; "I'll do that." Weel, man, I wasna twa meenits into the kirk when I windered what like it was for size aside Gayneld Park, an' I thocht I wud see if I cud rin fower times roond it in five meenits.
"It wes fine, but, man, tae see him set the bukes doon on the pulpit cushion, and then juist gie ae glisk roond the kirk as much as tae say, 'What think ye o' that? cowed a' thing."
We got doon the stair an' I lichtit the fire an' got the kettle to the boil, an' we sat an' harkined to the wind skreechin' doon the lum, an' groanin' an' wailin' amon' the trees ower the road, an' soochin' roond aboot the washin'-hoose. I raley never heard the marrow o't. The nicht o' the fa'a'in' o' the Tay Brig was but the blawin' oot o' a can'le aside it.
"I reckon," continued Matthew to little Reuben Thwaite, by his side, as the procession started afresh, "I reckon yon auld Nick," with a lurch of his thumb over his shoulder, "likes Ash Wednesday better ner this Wednesday better ner ony Wednesday for that's the day he curses every yan all roond, and asks the folks to say Amen tul him."
Jamie himself slipped behind, and did not wish to be seen. "It's the respeck he's gettin' the day frae high an' low," was Jamie's husky apology; "tae think o' them fetchin' their wy doon frae Glen Urtach, and toiling roond frae the heich Glen, an' his Lordship driving through the drifts a' the road frae Muirtown, juist tae honour Weelum MacLure's beerial.
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