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Updated: May 24, 2025
"Ye son o' a deevil's soo!" cried the woman; "I s' hae amen's o' ye for this, gien I sud ro'st my ain hert to get it." "'Deed, but ye re duin that fine a'ready! I wonner what he thinks o sawmon troot noo! Eh, mem?" "Have done, Malcolm," said Florimel. "I am ashamed of you. If the woman is not hurt, we have no business in her house." "Hear till her!" cried Mrs Catanach contemptuously. "The woman!"
In short, at the close of their discourse, they came to the conclusion which was well embodied in the remark of Ebony, when he said, "It's my opinion, founded on obsarvashun, dat if we was to talk an tink de whole night long we would come no nearer de troot, so I'll turn in."
Hans Breitmann writes somewhere: Oh, if you live in Leyden town You'll meet, if troot be told, Der forms of all der freunds dot tied When du werst six years old. And they were all there under the chanting palms saices, orderlies, pedlars, water-carriers, street-cleaners, chicken-sellers and the slate-coloured buffalo with the china-blue eyes being talked to by a little girl with the big stick.
"I didn't recommend him to you, sir. I wrote you distinctly that I did not feel at liberty to recommend him." "Tat iss teh troot, Toctor Tseweer; tat iss teh ectsectly troot. Shtill I taught I'll yoost trop in on you to say a verte to you, Toctor, apowt Mister" He hung his large head at one side to remember. "Richling," said the Doctor, impatiently. "Yes, sir. Apowt Mister Richlun.
The Reverend Alexander Macgregor was tall and spare, oval-faced, eyed like a hawk, yet with a humorous twinkle behind his keen glances that were equally alert whether for the rising of a 'troot' or a sinner.
Whaur's the gude o' greetin? It's no worth the saut i' the watter o' 't, Ma'colm. It's an ill wardle, an micht be a bonny ane gien't warna for ill men." "'Deed, mem! I'm thinkin' mair aboot ill women, at this prasent," said Malcolm. "Maybe there's no sic a thing, but yon's unco like ane. As bonny a sawmon troot 's ever ye saw, mem!
"A fine mess you'd make of it livin' alone." "I'd not be alone, belave me," replied Butler. "There's many a place I'd be welcome in this town no thanks to ye." "And there's many a place ye wouldn't have been if it hadn't been for me. I'm tellin' ye that," retorted Mrs. Butler, genially. "And that's not stretchin' the troot much, aither," he answered, fondly. Aileen was adamant.
It's a' I'm cawpable o' to haud ohn cursed that foul tyke o' hers." "Hoot, laddie! haud yer tongue." "Ay will I. I'm na gaun to du 't, ye ken. But sic a fine troot 's that the verra ane ye wad hae likit, mem!" "Never ye min' the troot. There's mair whaur that cam frae. What anger't her at ye?"
Richlun pin py my etsteplitchmendt, I tell you teh troot, Toctor Tseweer, I am yoost meckin' monneh haynd ofer fist!" He swung his chest forward again, drew in his lower regions, revolved his fists around each other for a moment, and then let them fall open at his sides, with the added assurance, "Now you kott teh ectsectly troot." The Doctor started away, but the baker detained him by a touch:
"Hoots! ye'll jist lea' the troot wi' me. Ye'll be seekin' a saxpence for 't, I reckon," she persisted, again approaching the basket. "I tell ye, Mistress Catanach," said Malcolm, drawing back now in the fear that if she once had it she would not yield it again, "it's gauin' up to the Hoose!" "Hoots! there's naebody there seen 't yet. It's new oot o' the watter."
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