Page:The Gentleman's Magazine - New Series, Volume 6.pdf/619

noost;—an se du seez hiz fes wiz timmie, an da nukkie o’ hiz kepp bùre stracht owr da hedd o’ da rùll, an se mycht I dù weel az I tuik hit fur a trow, an ma hert tuik a flochtin an a whiskin hit wiz unmodarit, bit whan I kam atweest himm an da lycht, hee luikit upp, an whan hee saa mee hee whett da rùll, an aff hee gùd lekda ful o’ da ere. A’ll ashùre dee hiz feet wiz wirt twa pere o’ haands till him: fur gin I kùd a gotten had apun him, ill luk sit i’ ma haands gin I sùd na astud biz luggs , itt hee sùd a been kent fur a teef a da deys o’ hiz lyfe. An se du seez I giangs doon trou tidda steag, an hit wiz dat dark it I wid na a kent what hit wiz, bit dere I fins twa sukka-legs stikkit fù o’ whyte oo’ apun a tuag lyin benon a meashie o’ hedderkows itt heed been fetshin hemm ta soop da lumms o’ Skerpa, an I fan da tnyfe itt hee wiz haddin atill hiz sheeks, a prettie splunder niu joktalegg oot o’ da shopp o’ Bunis, itt heed koft da ook afoar frae Lowrie Bartlesin fur a pere o’ piltak waands itt he stùl oot anonder da boat o’ Hullan, apo da ere o’ Widweek, da dey it he gùd ta Hermaness wee da ouzen o’ Skerpa. An I fan da teef's snuffmill, itt heed wrocht oot o’ hiz pokkit, whinn hee wiz stryddin fornent da rùll. Bitt dis iz no a. Alto I gatt na menze apun him at dat meentyme, I mett him in a mistie moarnin fur a dat.

you see his face was to me, and the corner of his cap lay straight over the head of the colt. And, so might I do well, as I took him for a boggle, and my heart took a flickering and a fluttering that was immoderate; but when I came betwixt him and the light, he looked up and when he saw me he quitted the colt and off he went like a fowl of the air. I will assure you that his feet were worth two pair of hands to him: for if I could have gotten hold of him, ill luck sit in my hands, if I should not have cropped his ears, that he should have been known for a thief all the days of his life. And so, you see, I goes down straight to the colt, and it was that dark that I would not have known what it was, but there I finds two little pokes filled full of white wool, upon a raw hide lying above a bundle of heather stalks, that he had been fetching home to sweep the chimneys of Skerpa. And I found the knife that he was holding against his chops—a pretty bright new jackalegs, out of the shop of Bunis, that he had bought the week before from Lowrie Bartlesin, for a pair of fishing rods that he stole from under the boat of Hullan, upon the shore of Widweek, the day that he went to Hermaness with the oxen of Skerpa. And I found the thief's snuff-mill, that had worked out of his pocket when he was striding before the colt. But this is not all. Although I got no satisfaction of him at that very time, I met him in a misty morning for all that.

I waarn hit wiz a gùde munt o deys efter dat, whinn hee wiz draan him weel up ta Ionsmis, itt I wiz kummin hemm frae Ska whaar I wiz rowin dat simmer, ee setterdey nycht wi a biudie o’ ling hedds an peerie brismaks, an bruk o’ dat kynd apo ma bak, nevvir tinkin o’ noathin insep da ùlie itt wiz rinnin oot o a liver hedd i ma biudie, an a ere o soor blaand itt wiz leakin oot o a botle it I hed, an rinnin doon apo ma bak wi a sweein an a yuke itt wiz undùmas, fur dae wirr a grett mukkle scab rycht anonder ma biudie, an whinn I kam upp trow fre da Santkluff, ti da toon o’ Norrook, I luiks behint mee, an wha tinks du seez I bitt Steaggie kummin sloomin himm upp efter mee, an se tinks I, bruee, du an I hez a kra ta pluk afoar wee pairt; an whinn I kam ti da yaard o’ Digran, I lint mee apo da yaard dek ta tak in da baand o’ ma biudie, an de wirr a hel boats-kru o’ Norruk men staandin anonder da stak, lipnin a tùlie atweest Meggie o’ Digran an Annie Sudderlan, itt wiz flytin wee a veelansie itt wiz unspeakable, kiz Annie hedd bund herr niu kallud ku upun a ley rigg o’ Meggie’s, it de’d no been a kliv apun i da sezin, an Meggie hed british’d Annie’s spleet niu herin teddir se sma itt de wirr

I warrant it was a good month of days after that, when he was drawing him well up to Ionsmis, that I was coming home from Ska, wheere I was fishing that summer, one Saturday night with a creil [or basket] of ling heads and small tusk-fish, and scraps of that kind upon my back, never thinking of nothing except the oil that was running out of a liver head in my pannier and a little sour buttermilk that was leaking out of a bottle that I had, and running down upon my back with a tickling^[1] and an itching that was inconceivable, for there was a great large scab under my creil, and when I came up just from the sand cliff to the town of Norrook, I looks behind me and who, think you, saw I but Steaggie, coming slipping up after me; and so thinks I, brother, thou and I have a crow to pluck before we part. And when I came to the garden of Digran, I leant me upon the garden dyke to take-in the band of my pannier, and there were a whole boat’s crew of Norrook men standing under the stack, watching a quarrel between Meggy of Digran and Annie Sudderlan, that were

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1. Swein means a disagreeably burning sensation.