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Updated: June 11, 2025
Take care how ye shift it. It were t' merry feast-pot at my christening, and yon's t' letters of my father's and mother's names. Take off t' lid. There's two bits of paper in the inside." "Read yon," said the old man, pushing the small one towards him. Jack took it up wondering. It was the letter he had written from the workhouse fifteen years before. That was all he could see.
More hopeful, I was steaming on, a clerical tugboat, when of a sudden Geordie stopped, pointing with his right leg high in air, trusting me and his left to perform the relief duty thus demanded. "Yon's ma coo, ma Ayrshire coo," he exclaimed, pointing with his initial leg to the white-faced cow which lay among its kindred, its jaw gently swinging.
He leaned his head sideways and seemed to drop a casual glance over the ledge. Walter knew that the drop just there was a very nasty one indeed. "Oh, but yon's where I came over I couldn't have fallen quite so wide " he began to explain, and checked himself, reading the queer strained smile on Hannaford's face. "I I reckon we'll call it Providence, all the same," said the poacher.
It happened, however, that I had occasion to pass by, and some of the town's folk who recollected me, said whisperingly to one another, but loud enough to be heard, that I was one of the persecuted; whereupon Mrs M'Coul turned round and said to me, with a constrained composure, "Can ye tell me whilk o' yon's the head and hand o' John M'Coul, that was executed for the covenanting at Lanerk?"
Lady Florimel suddenly encountered him on his way home, and was startled by his look. "Where have you been, Malcolm?" she exclaimed. "I hardly ken, my leddy: somewhaur aboot the feet o' Mount Pisgah, I 'm thinkin', if no freely upo' the heid o' 't." "That's not the name of the hill up there!" "Ow na; yon's the Binn." "What have you been about? Looking at things in general, I suppose."
"Yon's a fearfu' buddy ye've got in yer shanty doon yonder, Sandy," she began solemnly. "Ah'd no let him sleep there anither nicht." Her brother was busy distributing the fried pork around the table, a performance at which he was an adept.
If you admire Lord Rosebery, Now is Your Time He studied this for some moments. "Time for what?" he asked, rubbing his ear softly. "Drinks," suggested Cai, and laughed in pure pleasure of heart. "Come along, man or you'll be makin' me Prime Minister before we get to the Ship. . . Yes, yon's the church Established. You can tell by the four spikes an' the weathercock; like-wise by the tombstones.
"Eh, but yon's a fine woman!" said an old farmer of the humbler sort to his neighbour. "Yo'll not tell me she's a land lassie?" "Noa, noa; she's the new farmer at Great End a proud body, they say, an' a great hustler! The men say she's allus at 'em. But they don't mind her neither. She treats 'em well. Them's her two land girls walking beside."
But when Ogbury Downs were originally terraced, I don't doubt that the primitive system of universal tribal warfare still existed everywhere in Britain. This system is aptly summed up in the familiar modern Black Country formula, 'Yon's a stranger.
His wife stole after him, and found him on his knees by the bedside, his face buried in the blankets, where his boy lay asleep with calm, dreamless countenance. She took his hand, and led him back to bed. "To think," she moaned as they went, "'at yon's the same bairnie I glowert at till my sowl ran oot at my een!
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