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Updated: July 19, 2025
Macfadyen, whose judgment on sermons or anything else was seldom at fault; "an' a kind-hearted, though o' coorse he hes his faults like us a', an' he disna tribble the Kirk often.
And eh, bonny man, gie a luik i' the face o' my father and mither i' their bed ower at the Knowe; and I pray ye see 'at Kirsty's gettin a fine sleep, for she has a heap o' tribble wi' me. I'm no worth min'in', yet ye min' me: she is worth min'in'! and that clever! as ye ken wha made her!
Ye see they're juist try in' the Scripture plan o' heapin' coals o' fire on yer head. "Here ye've been negleckin' the fouk in seeckness an' lettin' them dee afore their freends' eyes withoot a fecht, an' refusin' tae gang tae a puir wumman in her tribble, an' frichtenin' the bairns no, a'm no dune and scourgin' us wi' fees, and livin' yersel' on the fat o' the land.
We 'ill hae the Muirtown doctor up, an' ye 'ill be aboot again in nae time. "Ye hevna ony sair tribble; ye're juist trachled wi' hard wark an' needin' a rest. Dinna say ye're gaein' tae leave us, Weelum; we canna dae withoot ye in Drumtochty;" and Drumsheugh looked wistfully for some word of hope. "Na, na, Paitrick, naethin' can be dune, an' it's ower late tae send for ony doctor.
I always thought more of Peter MacIntosh when the mysterious "tribble" that needed the Perth doctor made no difference in his manner, and he passed his snuff box across the seat before the long prayer as usual, but in this indifference to privileges Peter was exceptional. You could never meet Kirsty Stewart on equal terms, although she was quite affable to any one who knew his place.
There's a knock that canna be mista'en, an' a' heard it last night. A've focht deith for ither fouk mair than forty year, but ma ain time hes come at laist. "A've nae tribble worth mentionin' a bit titch o' bronchitis an' a've hed a graund constitution; but a'm fair worn oot, Paitrick; that's ma complaint, an' its past curin'."
There's been scarce a fly in the ointment, forbye Sandy Trother's wife, who gied him, an' gied us a', a heap o' tribble; but she was Irish, ye ken. An' oor ministers hae a' been frae Scotland; but we had ane for mebbe twa month or mair nae oor ain minister, but only a kin' o' evangelist buddy. He was an Irish buddy tae, but there were severals converted.
As quick as lightning, the point of Calhoun’s sword reached his heart, and the combat was over. During this time Tribble had vanquished his antagonist. The remaining Federal, seeing one of his comrades dead and the other a prisoner, threw down his sword and surrendered. The dead officer proved to be Colonel D. J. Halisy of the Sixth Kentucky cavalry.
"He's far lichter than ye wud expeck for sae big a man there wesna muckle left o' him, ye see but the road is heavy, and a'il change ye aifter the first half mile." "Ye needna tribble yersel, wricht," said the man from Glen Urtach; "the'll be nae change in the cairryin' the day," and Tammas was thankful some one had saved him speaking.
There's a knock that canna be mista'en, an' a' heard it last night. A've focht deith for ither fouk mair than forty year, but ma ain time hes come at laist. "A've nae tribble worth mentionin' a bit titch o' bronchitis an' a've hed a graund constitution; but a'm fair worn oot, Paitrick; that's ma complaint, an' its past curin'."
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