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Updated: June 2, 2025
A fule and his siller's shune parted. Eh, but ye're a green callant!" he cried, "an' a veecious, tae! Cleikin' up wi' baubee-joes!" "If you dare to speak of the young lady ..." I began. "Leddy!" he cried. "Haud us and safe us, whatten leddy? Ca' thon a leddy? The toun's fu' o' them. Leddies! Man, it's weel seen ye're no very acquaint in Embro!" A clap of anger took me.
The strange riders had dismounted and walked their horses through the peat hags and mosses, but now were up again, and pressing on to the 'yett. The foremost rider the Land Sergeant knocked heavily on the door with the butt of his lance and demanded to see 'Robson o' the Bower i' the name o' my Lord Warden. 'He's no' within, cried Meg in return. 'Whatten want ye at him?
"What's yon on the Bass?" says he. "On the Bass?" says grandfaither. "Ay," says Sandie, "on the green side o't." "Whatten kind of a thing?" says grandfaither. "There canna be naething on the Bass but just the sheep." "It looks unco like a body," quo' Sandie, who was nearer in. "A body!" says we, and we nane of us likit that.
Archie!" she would say, "whatten a time o' night is this of it! God forgive me for a daft wife!" So it befell, by good management, that she was not only the first to begin these nocturnal conversations, but invariably the first to break them off; so she managed to retire and not to be dismissed.
"Whatten kind of a thing?" says grandfaither. "There cannae be naething on the Bass but just the sheep." "It looks unco like a body," quo' Sandie, who was nearer in. "A body!" says we, and we nane of us likit that. For there was nae boat that could have broucht a man, and the key o' the prison yett hung ower my faither's held at hame in the press bed.
"Whatten kind of a thing?" says grandfaither. "There cannae be naething on the Bass but just the sheep." "It looks unco like a body," quo' Sandie, who was nearer in. "A body!" says we, and we none of us likit that. For there was nae boat that could have brought a man, and the key o' the prison yett hung ower my faither's at hame in the press bed.
Whatten ails him?" asked Libbie. "Summat's amiss wi' his backbone, folks say; he's better and worse, like. He's a nice little chap enough, and his mother's not that bad either; only my mother and her had words, so now we don't speak." Libbie went on watching, and when she next spoke, to ask who and what his mother was, Anne Dixon was fast asleep.
"And about the place?" I pursued. "Whatten place?" says Andie. "The place I am to be landed at?" said I. He owned there was nothing as to that. "Very well, then," I said, "this shall be mine to arrange. The wind is in the east, my road lies westward: keep your boat, I hire it; let us work up the Forth all day; and land me at two o'clock to-morrow at the westmost we'll can have reached."
He told me it was to be two o'clock afternoon. "And about the place?" I pursued. "Whatten place?" says Andie. "The place I'm to be landed at," said I. He owned there was nothing as to that. "Very well, then," I said, "this shall be mine to arrange.
A fule and his siller's shune parted. Eh, but ye're a green callant!" he cried, "an' a veecious, tae! Cleikin' up wi' baubee-joes!" "If you dare to speak of the young lady ..." I began. "Leddy!" he cried. "Haud us and safe us, whatten leddy? Ca' thon a leddy? The toun's fu' o' them. Leddies! Man, it's weel seen ye're no very acquant in Embro'!" A clap of anger took me.
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