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Updated: June 21, 2025


"Ay, maybe," answered Donal listlessly, as if he were thinking of something far away; "but it winna mak up for the tither; they're no upo' the same side o' the watter, like. A puir lad like me daurna lift an ee till a gran' leddy like you, mem. A' the warl' wad but scorn him, an' lauch at the verra notion.

An' oh! it's a lang time, sir, sin' I was onybody i' this warl'! I houp sair they'll hae something for auldfowk to du i' the neist." "Hoots, mistress Forsyth," returned the laird, "the' 'll be naebody auld there!" "Hoo am I to win in than, sir? I'm auld, gien onybody ever was auld!

That an' no ither sud determine the personification ye gie a thing for that's the trowth o' the thing. Eh, man, Fergus! the jaws is fechtin' wi' nae rocks. They're jist at their pairt in a gran' cleansin' hermony. They're at their hoosemaid's wark, day an' nicht, to haud the warl' clean, an' gran' an' bonnie they sing at it.

"I dinna believe ae word o' 't, laddie," answered Miss Horn eagerly. "Wha cud believe sic a fine laad come o' sic a fause mither?" "She micht be ony body's mither, an' fause tu," said Malcolm gloomily. "That's true laddie; and the mair mither the fauser! There's a warl' o' witness i' your face 'at gien she be yer mither, the markis, an no puir honest hen peckit John Stewart, was the father o' ye.

Disna the Saviour say: 'I am the licht o' the warl? He that walketh in Him maun ken what licht is, lassie. Syne ye hae the licht in yersel in yer ain hert; an' ye maun ken what it is. Ye canna mistak' it." Annie was neither able nor willing to enter into an argument on the matter, although she was not satisfied. She would rather think than dispute about it.

"Muckle siclike 's yersel', my lord!" answered Grizzie; "no that muckle wit but I might hae mair, to guide my steps throuw the wilderness ye wad mak o' no an ill warl'." "Are you aware, woman, that you have made yourself liable to a heavy fine for trespass? This field is mine!" "An' this fitpath's mine, my lord made wi' my ain feet, an' I coonsel ye to stan' aside, an' lat me by."

While he spoke, Malcolm had been smoothing Kelpie all over with his palms; the moment the factor ceased talking, he ceased stroking, and with one arm thrown over the mare's back, looked him full in the face. "Gien ye imaigine, Maister Crathie," he said, "'at I coont it ony rise i' the warl' 'at brings me un'er the orders o' a man less honest than he micht be, ye're mista'en.

He said a hantle aboot the care o' Providence, but a' the gude that he did seemed to me to be but a haudin' aff o' something ill that he had made as weel. Ye wad hae thocht the deevil had made the warl', and syne God had pitten us intil 't, and jist gied a bit wag o' 's han' whiles to haud the deevil aff o' 's whan he was like to destroy the breed a'thegither.

'But, 'deed, I got my information aboot the feet o' fowk frae naegate i' this warl'! The bonny man himsel sent word aboot them.

Maybe they haena come throw the hards like them." "And syne there'll be ane or twa cruppen in like that chosen vessel o' grace they ca' Robert Bruce. I'm sure he's eneuch to ruin ye i' the sicht o' the warl', hooever you and he may fare at heid-quarters, bein' a' called and chosen thegither." "For God's sake, dinna think that sic as him gies ony token o' being ane o' the elec."

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