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Updated: June 19, 2025
Bayley hasn't preached a sermon this ten year wi'oot chivvyin Papists!" said Hubert from the door. "An yo'll not find yan o' them in his parish if yo were to hunt it wi' a lantern for a week o' Sundays. When I was a lad I thowt Romanists were a soart o' varmin. I awmost looked to see 'em nailed to t' barndoor, same as stoeats!"
D'ye mind the wee lassie that was sae still till she began to know ye the weest one of them a'? Aye? Weel, she was born six months after her faither went awa', and I think she's our favorite among them a'." "And ye ha' the care and the feedin' and the clothin' o' all that brood?" I said. "Is it no cruel hard'?" "Hard enow," said the auld man, breaking his silence. "But we'd no be wi'oot them.
I haena ony shoon to ma feet." "It's no' so cauld. Gin I had twa guile feet I could gang the bit way wi'oot shoon." "I ken it isna so cauld," Ailie admitted, "but for a lassie it's no' respectable to gang to a grand place barefeeted." That was undeniable, and the eager children fell silent and tearful. But oh, necessity is the mother of makeshifts among the poor!
B, forbye he's growin' maist awfu' dreich in his sermons, though when he's that wearisome a body canna heed him wi'oot takin' peppermints to the kirk, he's nane the less, at seeventy-sax, a better mon than the new asseestant. Div ye ken the new asseestant? He's a wee-bit, finger-fed mannie, ower sma' maist to wear a goon!
How can I lay my sporran by, An' sit me doun at hame, Wi'oot a Hieland philabeg Or hyphenated name? I lo'e the gentry o' the North, The Southern men I lo'e, The canty people o' the West, The Paisley bodies too. The pawky folk o' Fife are dear, Sae dear are ane an' a', That e'en to think that we maun pairt Maist braks my hairt in twa.
"I'll do ma duty, thank ye, James Moore, wi'oot respect o' persons," the little man cried back, never turning. Father and son walked away, one behind the other, like a man and his dog, and there was no word said between them. Across the Stony Bottom, Red Wull, scowling with bared teeth at David, joined them. Together the three went up the bill to the Grange. In the kitchen M'Adam turned.
He canna build a fire wi'oot scorchin' his fingers. He lays hold o' a paddle like a three months' babby. He bids ye pit yer trust i' the Lord, an' himself rises up wi' a start every time a wolf raises the long howl at nicht. I didna believe there was ever sae helpless a creature. An' for a' that he's the laddie that's here tae show the heathen thae puir, sinfu' heathen, mind ye how tae find grace.
"Fair means or foul, ye're content sae lang as Wullie and me are beat. I wonder ye dinna poison him a little arsenic, and the way's clear for your Bob." "'The way is clear enough wi'oot that," from Tammas caustically. Then a lengthy silence, only broken by that exceeding bitter cry: "Eh, Wullie, Wullie, they're all agin us!" And always the rivals red and gray went about seeking their opportunity.
"Ye comena in wi'oot the leave o' me," he cried, with a vengeful expression. "What's that for?" said Malcolm, who had already interposed his great boot, so that the spring bolt could not reach its catch. "There s' nae lan' loupin' rascals come in here," said Bykes, setting his shoulder to the gate. That instant he went staggering back to the wall of the lodge, with the gate after him.
'I beg yer pardon? 'Ach, ye ken what I mean. He fancied we wud enjoy a wee whiley jist by oorsel's. 'Speak for yersel'! I'm thinkin' it was exceedingly rude o' him to slope wi'oot tellin' me he had enjoyed his tea. 'He asked me to tell ye that he hadna enjoyed hissel' sae weel since his uncle's funeral, ten year back. Christina gave a little sniff. 'That's a nice sort o' compliment.
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