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"The puir laird's gane back to his," said Malcolm. "I won'er gien he kens yet, or gien he gangs speirin' at ilk ane he meets gien he can tell him whaur he cam frae. He's mad nae mair, ony gait." "How? Will he pe not tead? Ta poor lairt! Ta poor maad lairt!" "Ay, he's deid: maybe that's what 'll be troublin' yer sicht, daddy." "No, my son.
But ye're the neist best, and richt welcome. I'm as glaid as can be to see ye, Kirsty. Come awa ben the hoose. Kirsty followed him in silence, and sat down dejected. The loving heart saw it. 'Maybe ye're him efter a'! said Steenie. 'He can tak ony shape he likes. I wudna won'er gien ye was him! Ye're unco like him ony gait! 'Na, na, Steenie! I'm far frae that!
I'se gib 'im a good report on you ef I kin. I'se feard, howsomeber, dat he say you outgrowed yo' sense." "Dar now, Chunk, you puttin' on mo' airs dan Marse Scoville hissef. He des ez perlite ter marster en ole miss ez ef he come ter pay his 'spects ter dem en he look at Miss Lou ez a cat do at cream." "Hi! dat so? No won'er he want ter git ahaid ob de parson en dat weddin' business."
Feow sees't yet, but the time's comin' when ilkabody will be as sure o' 't as I am. What won'er is't that I say't, wi' Jesus tellin' me the same frae mornin' to nicht!" "Lass, lass, I fear me, ye'll gang oot o' yer min'!" "It 'll be intil the mind o' Christ, then, mother! I dinna care for my ain min'. I hae nane o' my ain, an' will stick to His.
"Aye wad I til ony ane that's nearer His likness nor himsel and that ane's oor Isy! I wadna won'er, Jeemie, gien ye war fit for a drive the morn! In that case, I s' caw ye doon to the toon, and lat ye say yer ain say til her." James did not sleep much that night, and nevertheless was greatly better the next day indeed almost well. Before noon they were at the soutar's door.
Nae mair is 't ony won'er she sud tak' me for dementit, gien she h'ard what I was singin'! only I canna think she did that, for I was but croonin' till mysel'." Malcolm was wrong there, for he was singing out loud and clear. "That was but a kin' o' an unknown tongue atween Him an' me an' no anither."
I won'er gien she believes 'at there's ae great thoucht abune a', an' aneth a', an' roon' a', an' in a'thing. She cudna be in sic a mist o' benevolence and parritch hertitness gien she cud lippen till a wiser. It's na'e won'er she kens naething aboot poetry but the meeserable sids an' sawdist an' leavin's the gran' leddies sing an' ca' sangs!
"It's me to take care of you, Sandy!" "And me to take care of you, Andrew!" Here was the nucleus of a church! two stones laid on the foundation-stone. "Luik here, Sandy!" said Andrew; "we maun hae anither, an' syne there'll be four o' 's!" "How's that?" asked Sandy. "I won'er 'at we never noticed it afore!
The woman burst into a great laugh, a hard, unmusical, but not unmirthful laugh. "Ay!" she said, "was that hoo the fowk wad hae't o' me?" "It wasna muckle won'er, efter ye cam wydin' throu' watter yairds deep, an' syne gaed doon the spate on a bran'er." "Weel, it was the maddest thing!" she returned, with another laugh which stopped abruptly. " I wadna dee the like again to save my life.
Michael Ryan said, with a touch of resentment, "Ah, well, one couldn't maybe expec' it of thim to be throublin' thimselves talkin' fine for the pack of us, as ignorant as dirt, in the middle of th'ould bog." And his wife said, "'Deed, now, I wouldn't won'er meself if the raison was his Riverence 'ud think bad of usin' his Latin words for anythin' else on'y prayers and such.
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