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Updated: May 9, 2025
As the coffin passed the stable door a horse neighed within, and every man looked at his neighbour. It was his old mare crying to her master. Jamie slipped into the stable, and went up into the stall. "Puir lass, ye're no gaein' wi' him the day, an' ye 'ill never see him again; ye've hed yir last ride thegither, an' ye were true tae the end."
That's it; yir daein' fine. Steady, man, steady. Yir at the deepest; sit heavy in yir seats. Up the channel noo, and ye 'ill be oot o' the swirl. Weel dune, Jess! Weel dune, auld mare! Mak' straicht for me, doctor, an' a' 'll gie ye the road oot. Ma word, ye've dune yir best, baith o' ye, this mornin'," cried Hillocks, splashing up to the dog-cart, now in the shallows.
As they were handed over to the police the Seminary, which had been at first struck dumb, recovered speech and expressed itself with much vivacity. "Who would have thought Byles had as much spirit? Sall, he 'ill be rinnin' horses at Muirtown Races yet;" "For ony sake walk backwards, Thomas yir breeks are barely decent;" "The pheasants have been hard on yir legs, Cosh;" "Where's the geranniums?"
"'He'd be mair spairin' o' his offers if he hed four and twenty mile tae look aifter. There's naethin' wrang wi' yir laddie but greed. Gie him a gud dose o' castor-oil and stop his meat for a day, an' he 'ill be a'richt the morn. "'He 'ill not take castor-oil, doctor. We have given up those barbarous medicines. "'Whatna kind o' medicines hae ye noo in the Sooth? "'Well, you see Dr.
Ye change, of coorse, but yir branch 'll hae a lang wait the day. It 'll be an awfu' fecht wi' the Hielant train. Muirtown platform 'll be worth seein'; it 'll juist be michty," and the collector departed, smacking his lips in prospect of the fray.
Gin ye should gang to Charleston ye'll hae to sing sma' on their Fourth o' July, for that's their screechin' time, they tell me; an' ye wudna hae a psalm frae year's end to year's end to wet yir burnin' lips an' ye wadna ken when it was the Twenty-fourth o' May. They tell me they haena kept the Twenty-fourth o' May in Ameriky since 1776." Archie knew his duty better than his dates.
Marget's heart burned within her at the sight, and perhaps she could hardly make allowance for Lachlan's blood and theology. "This is what ye hev dune, and ye let a woman see yir wark. Ye are an auld man, and in sore travail, but a' tell ye before God ye hae the greater shame. Juist twenty years o' age this spring, and her mither dead.
Tak yir feet aff that steel bar this meenut" this by way of practical application; and when after a brief pause, in which the fate of an empire hung in the balance, John obeyed, the two chief officials in the parish had made their covenant.
"It's no to the Black Bull, or ony other bull, ye're to go this afternoon, but back to yir ain hoose. If ye maun taste, would it no have been more respectable to keep indoors, instead of making an exhibeetion of yourself afore the Seminary? It's no becomin' in a magistrate, and it's michty bad for the laddies."
"It's a bonnie word, an' yir mither wes a sanct; but it's no for the like o' me. It's ower gude; a' daurna tak it. "Shut the buik an' let it open itsel, an' ye 'ill get a bit a've been readin' every nicht the laist month."
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