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Updated: June 14, 2025
"Than ye're weel provided for; Praise be thankit! Marget." "Ow, ay; nae doot," replied Marget, with bitterness, of which Bruce took no notice. "And what's to come o' the bairnie?" pursued he. "I maun jist get some dacent auld body i' the toon to tak' her in, and lat her gang to the schuil. It's time. The auld fowk wadna pit up wi' her a week." "And what'll that cost ye, Marget?" "I dinna ken.
Sae we bude to bide still ower the Sawbath, though we wad fain hae been oot' o' the toon afore the kirk began. But seein' that we cudna, I thocht it wad be but dacent to gang to the kirk like ither fowk, and sae I made mysel' as snod as I could, and gaed oot. And afore I had gane mony yairds, I cam upo' fowk gaein to the kirk.
But it's verra true that gin the story cam' frae that en' o' the toon, there's room for rizzonable doobts. Sae we'll awa' to our beds, and houp things mayna be sae far gane as the soun' o' them. Only I drede there's aye some water whaur the stirkie droons."
A long, lean, sinewy man of early middle age, he had a smooth-shaven, bony jaw, far-seeing gray eyes under furzy brows, and a shock of auburn hair. When he spoke, it was to give bits out of his own experience. "Thae terriers are usefu' eneugh on an ordinar' fairm an' i' the toon to keep awa' the vermin, but I wadna gie a twa-penny-bit for ane o' them on a sheep-fairm.
"Alexander Mowdiewort, ye spak ill o' the minister an' session, o' the kirk an' the wholesome order o' this parish. We have a warrant for your apprehension and appearance which we might, unless moved by penitence and dutiful submission, put in force. Then are ye aware whaur that wad land you i' the jail in Kirkcudbright toon, my man Saunders."
Preserve me! if he's only an echteent pairt o' the Toon Cooncil, shurely common sense 'ill lat you see that the Toon Cooncil's bigger than he is. Ony bit loonie in the tower-penny cud see that in a blink."
"Speak Grecia's wisest, thou, 'tis said, Full deeply in Life's page hast read, And many a clime hath known my tread; Tis pantoon olbiotatos? "The monarch raised his eager eye, Gazed on the sage exultingly, And slow came forth the calm reply Tellos ho Atheenaios. "Upon his funeral pyre he lay Crownless, his sceptre passed away, The shade of Solon seem to say, oudeis toon zoontoon holbios.
Folk ask me, whiles, hoo it comes that I dwell still sae far frae the centre o' the world as they've a way o' dubbin London! I like London, fine, ye'll ken. It's a grand toon. I'd be an ungrateful chiel did I no keep a warm spot for the place that turned me frae a provincial comic into what I'm lucky enow to be the day. But I'm no wishfu' to pass my days and nichts always in the great city.
She's coming as fast as she can. Ahellanay! it's my lord provosts, and ta pailies, and ta guard and ta captain's coming toon stairs too Got press her! gang up or he meets her. She's coming she's coming ta lock's sair roosted."
Can I say it's no my business? Is it no? Suppose they gae oot on strike? How am I to mak' my trips frae one toon the the next? And should I no be finding oot, if there's like that threatening to my business, where the richt lies? You will be finding it's sae, too, in your affairs; there's little can come that willna affect you, soon or late.
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