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Updated: June 25, 2025
Ye saw it cudna be agreeable to her to hae ye aboot her no that weel washed, and wi' claes ye didna keep tidy and clean! Sin' ever ye tuik to luikin efter Phemy, I hae had little trouble luikin efter you! 'I see't, Kirsty, I see't! I never thoucht o' the thing afore! I micht du a heap to mak mysel mair like ither fowk! I s' no forget, noo 'at I hae gotten a grip o' the thing. Ye'll see, Kirsty!
It's auld an' casten an' bow-ribbit, it's true, but it wad ill become me to drap it wi'oot a thoucht, whan him 'at could mak haill loaves, said, 'Gether up the fragments 'at naething be lost. Na," she continued, still looking about her, "I maun jist dee my duty by the auld umbrell; syne come o' 't 'at likes, I carena."
Ye see, in th' woods we don't loike myshtery an', whiles we most av us know that Moncrossen's givin' Appleton th' double cross, 'tis none av our business, an' phwin we thoucht ye'd come into th' woods undher false pretinces to catch um at ut, they was more or less talk.
Cosmo, by gie ower muckle tether to wull thoucht, an' someday ye'll be laid i' the dub, followin' what has naither sense intil't, nor this warl's gude. What was ye thinkin' aboot the noo? Tell me that, an' Is' lat ye gang." "I was thinkin' aboot the burnie, gran'mamma." "It wad be tellin' ye to lat the burnie rin, an' stick to yer buik, laddie!"
Ye sud hae kenned better at your age, Rob. Ye sud hae thoucht twise, man." "'Deed, sir," answered Robert, quietly finishing his pinch of snuff, "there was sma' need, an' less time to think, an' Glashgar bursten, an' the watter comin' ower the tap o' the bit hoosie as gien 'twar a muckle owershot wheel, an' no a place for fowk to bide in.
Silence!" thundered Christie. A lad and a lass that were slightly flirting were discountenanced. Christie. "'A pund o' that same mairchant's flesh is thine! the coort awards it, and the law does give it." A young Fishwife. "There, I thoucht sae; he's gaun to cut him, he's gaun to cut him; I'll no can bide." Christie. "There's a fulish goloshen.
"Voolgar folk sit on an chair, ane, twa, whiles three hours, eatin' an' abune drinkin', as still as hoegs, or gruntin' puir every-day clashes, goessip, rubbich; when ye are aside them, ye might as weel be aside a cuddy; they canna gie ye a sang, they canna gie ye a story, they canna think ye a thoucht, to save their useless lives; that's voolgar folk." She sings. "A caaller herrin'!" Jean.
The buik may wauk a sense o' want, I daursay, I dinna ken, but it maistly pits intil me the thoucht o' something a body micht weel want, withoot makin me awaur o' wantin 't at that preceese moment. Prayer, with Steenie, as well as with Kirsty, was the utterance, audible or silent, in the ever open ear, of what was moving in him at the time. This was what she now heard him say:
It was the poet Tennyson. He replied, 'Lor', to think o' that! and sure I thoucht he was a shentleman! Near Stirling the same remark was made to the keeper of the hotel where he had stayed.
Hoo can I tak the verra sunsheen oot o' her life 'at I lo'ed afore I kent she was my ain sister, an' jist thoucht lang to win near eneuch till to du her ony guid turn worth duin? An' here I am, her ane half brither, wi' naething i' my pooer but to scaud the hert o' her, or else lee!
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