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So then, to mak a lang story short, in place o' jumpin into the Clyde, I hied me to a tavern, ate as hearty a supper as ever I ate in my life, drank a guid, steeve tumbler o' toddy, tumbled into bed, sleepit as sound as a caterpillar in winter, an' awoke next mornin as fresh as a daisy an' as licht as a lark, free frae a' concern aboot Lucy, an' perfectly satisfied that I had acted quite richt in no droonin mysel on the previous nicht.
"And you said, Steeve Bilton said, you said, 'Where is she? you said, and he swore, and you swore, and a lady rode up, and you pulled, and she sang out, and off went the gentleman, and Steeve said she said, "For shame."" "And it was the truest word spoken that day!" Robert released him. "You don't know much, Mr.
"Weel, Jeemie," said his father, shaking hands with him limply, "yon was some steeve parritch ye gied us this mornin! and the meal itsel was baith auld and soor!"
Instigation cried, "Cut along;" but the defiant smuggler was deficient in memory, and like Steeve Bilton, was reduced to scatter his concluding rhymes in prose, as "something about;" whereat jolly Butcher Billing, a reader of song-books from a literary delight in their contents, scraped his head, and then, as if he had touched a spring, carolled,
"And so, may be, do we," said Wainsby. "Fox-hunting 'll go on when your great-grandfather's your youngest son, farmer; or t' other way." "I reckon it'll be a stuffed fox your chil'ern 'll hunt, Mr. Steeve; more straw in 'em than bow'ls." "If the country," Stephen thumped the table, "were what you'd make of it, hang me if my name 'd long be Englishman!"
In the evening, Stephen Bilton, the huntsman, presented himself at the door of the long parlour of the Pilot, and loud cheers were his greeting from a full company. "Gentlemen all," said Stephen, with dapper modesty; and acted as if no excitement were current, and he had nothing to tell. "Well, Steeve?" said one, to encourage him. "How about Bob, to-day?" said another.
Something about 'prances, O! on her horse, you know, or you're a hem'd fool if you don't. I never could sing; wish I could! It's the joy of life! It's utterance! Hey for harmony!" "Eh! brayvo! now you're a man, Steeve! and welcomer and welcomest; yi yi, O!" jolly Butcher Billing sang out sharp. "Life wants watering.
But if this be any use I give my word that should MacDonald or any other force come this side the passes at Accurach Hill, or anywhere east Lochow, my time and steel are yours." MacCailein Mor looked a bit annoyed, and led us at a fast pace up to the gate of the castle that stood, high towered and embrasured for heavy pieces, stark and steeve above town Inneraora.
Yes, that long low hull, with its abnormal length of counter, and its bold sheer forward, the high, dominating bow with its excessive rake of stem, and the peculiar steeve of the bowsprit were all familiar to me.
I could not be absolutely certain of her identity until her hull should heave up clear of the horizon, but that jaunty steeve of bowsprit and the hoist and spread of those topsails were all very strongly suggestive of the Shark.
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