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"A' nicht long they gaed in the wet heath and jennipers, and whaur they gaed they neither knew nor cared, but just followed the bluid-stains and the footprints o' their faither's murderers. And a' nicht Dandie had his nose to the grund like a tyke, and the ithers followed and spak' naething, neither black nor white.
However, they spak only of scourging me, and had me away to the porter's lodge to try the tawse on my back, and I was crying mercy as loud as I could; and the king, when he had righted himself on the saddle, and gathered his breath, cried to do me nae harm; for, said he, he is ane of our ain Norland stots, I ken by the rowt of him, and they a' laughed and rowted loud eneugh.
I broke open the letter you sent me; hummed over the rhymes; and as I saw they were extempore, said to myself, they were very well; but when I saw at the bottom a name that I shall ever value with grateful respect, "I gapit wide, but naething spak."
'I I to flee and leave my sister my uncle! Oh, where are they? Halbert, let me go; I'll never pardon thee. 'Hoot, my lord! would I let you gang, when the Tutor spak to me as plain as I hear you now? "Take off Lord Malcolm," says he; "save him, and you save the rest. See him safe to the Earl of Mar." Those were his words, my lord; and if you wilna heed them, I will.
"I was jist thinkin, Peter," said Marion, after they had again lain silent for a while, "o' the last time we spak thegither aboot the laddie it maun be nigh sax year sin syne, I'm thinkin!" "'Deed I canna say! ye may be richt, Mirran," replied her spouse. "It's no sic a cheery subjec' 'at we sud hae muckle to say to ane anither anent it!
There are many versions of this ballad, but I give you here one of the shortest and perhaps the most beautiful. "The king sits in Dumferling toune Drinking the blude reid wine: 'O whar will I get a guid sailor, To sail this schip of mine? Up and spak an eldern knicht, Sat at the king's richt kne: 'Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor That sails upon the se.
"Blue Peter," he said, looking him in the face, "I took it as a mark o' yer freen'ship 'at ye never spak the word to me. What richt has ony man to ca' that wuman my mither? I hae never allooed it!" "I 'm thinkin'," returned Joseph, the more easily nettled that his horizon also was full of trouble, "your word upo' the maitter winna gang sae far 's John o' Groat's.
"So, you young jackanapes!" he said, half angry, and half amused, "you decline to come, when I send for you, without a magistrate's warrant, forsooth! It looks bad to begin with, I must say!" Gien ye had but hard him! He spak as gien he had been sent to fess me to yer lordship by the scruff o' the neck, an' I didna believe yer lordship wad do sic a thing. Ony gait, I wasna gauin' to stan' that.
He learnt ye to fiddle, Robert I hoombly beg your pardon, sir, Mister Robert. 'Nae offence, Betty, I assure ye. Ye hae been aye gude to me, and I thank ye hertily. Betty could not stand this. Her apron went up to her eyes. 'Eh, sir, she sobbed, 'ye was aye a gude lad. 'Excep' whan I spak o' Muckledrum, Betty. She laughed and sobbed together. 'Weel, ye'll tak Mistress Elshender in, winna ye?
"Did Maister Cowie say onything to ye aboot onything that was in't, no?" "Ay, did he. He spak' o' a five-poun' note that he had pitten in't. But whan I luikit for't, I cudna fin' 't." "Ay! ay! Whan did ye luik for't?" "I forgot it for twa or three days maybe a week." "Do ye min' that Sunday nicht that twa or three o' 's cam hame wi' Bruce, and had worship wi' him an' you?" "Ay, weel eneuch.
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