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Updated: June 27, 2025
I believe 't wi' a' my heart, my bonny man. 'Weel, and that's a' richt! But ye maunna ca' me yer bonny man, Kirsty; for there's but ae bonny man, and we 're a' brithers and sisters. He said it himsel! 'That's verra true, Steenie; but whiles ye're sae like him I canna help ca'in ye by his name. 'Dinna du't again, Kirsty. I canna bide it. I'm no bonny!
But he gave my gudesire a nudge as he offered them; and looking secretly and closely, Steenie saw that the chanter was of steel, and heated to a white heat; so he had fair warning not to trust his fingers with it. So he excused himsell again, and said he was faint and frightened, and had not wind aneugh to fill the bag.
But although a Presbyterian in practice, Sir Walter in several parts of his works expressed his dissent from several of the rigid canons of that Church, and an example occurs in that graphic scene in the Antiquary, the funeral group of Steenie Mucklebacket, where "the creak of the screw nails announced that the lid of the last mansion of mortality was in the act of being secured above its tenant.
Although Steenie had worked well, Kirsty knew he had a horror of dark places, associating them somehow with the weight of his feet: whether such places had for him any suggestion of the grave, I cannot tell; certainly to get rid of his feet was the form his idea of the salvation he needed was readiest to take. Then might there not be some animal inside?
My gudesire, with as gude acountenance as he could put on, made a leg, and placed the bag of money on the table wi' a dash, like a man that does something clever. The laird drew it to him hastily 'Is it all here, Steenie, man? 'Your honour will find it right, said my gudesire.
The poor king was frightened at once and angry, desirous of securing his safety, and at the same time ashamed to compromise his dignity; so that without attending to what Lord Glenvarloch endeavoured to explain, he kept making at his horse, and repeating, "We are a free king, man, we are a free king we will not be controlled by a subject. In the name of God, what keeps Steenie?
It dismayed her to find, when she came down, that Steenie had, as she thought, insisted on accompanying Kirsty, but it was without any great anxiety that she set about preparing food with which to follow them.
The like o' Steenie wasna the sort that they made Whigs o'. And so he became a Tory, as they ca' it, which we now ca' Jacobites, just out of a kind of needcessity, that he might belang to some side or other.
He strongly suggested a great Skye-terrier. When they reached the hut, Kirsty went in, and Steenie crept after her. They had covered the floor of it with heather, the stalks set upright and close packed, so that, even where the bells were worn off, it still made a thick long-piled carpet, elastic and warm. When the door was shut, they were snug there even in winter.
But I canna think it an unlawfu' thing to pit a bit trick on sic a landlouping scoundrel, that just lives by tricking honester folk." "But what are we to do with this?" said Steenie, producing a pocket-book. "Od guide us, man," said Edie in great alarm, "what garr'd ye touch the gear? a very leaf o' that pocket-book wad be eneugh to hang us baith."
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