Page:The Gentleman's Magazine - New Series, Volume 6.pdf/620

no a krum atill’d itt kud a been a humb laband till a whillie. An a’ll ashure dee, du wid a geen a gùde pees o’ gett afoar du fan twa better flyters: nevvir mycht I sin ginn I dud na heer da galder o’ dere tungs az veevaly abùn da klifts az ginn I’d been apo da toonmills asyde dim. An nu du seez az I wiz tellin dee, bye kums Steaggie wi a pere o’ helltars in his haand—hee geez mee da tyme o’ da dey an akses fooz a wee mee. “Braalie, braalie, bruee,” sez I, “fooz a wi dee sell, I warn du hez no a smell i dee hoarn,—yaa whey hez du no?”—“Na, deevil a kūmm iz been i mye kustadee dis munt an mere, sinn I tint ma mill ee dey it I wiz i da elb strikkin twartree lempits ta so at da eela.” I maks apo mee ta tak oot ma box oot o’ ma weasket pokkit, an I seyz, “weel dan will du smell at my trash.” An wi dat I taks oot hiz nain mill an sneyts ma noze, an az shun az hee sett hiz glowriks apun’d, da fes o’ himm lep upp lek a kol, an I seyz till him, “Bridder, kens du dis snuff mill?” “Na, no I, lam, foo sud I ken, na gùde ken o’ mee az I ken no, a prettie mill it iz, whaar fell du in wee’d.” “Whaar I fell in wi dis tnyfe.” I entrappit him, an tuik oot da joktalegg. “Meabee du kens na himm neddarin; yea, du mey stumse du ill viandit teef it du iz, du tocht nethin ta pit dye mark (hiz mark wiz da left lugg getskor’d behint, an da rycht lugg shùild wi a hol) apo mye steag;—nu afoar du an I sinders, nevvir mycht mee haand help ma bodie, in I dùna sett mye mark apo dee” (Wir mark wiz bead da luggs aff, bit wee hed annidder een furbye dat.) An wi dat sam I grippit him be da trapple, an whatt tinks du’ Pettie, I wiz dat ill tafu itt am mear az sertan I widna a left da wratch da ormal o’ a lugg, gin Dunkin o’ Sandle hed na kum behint mee, an klikkit da skùnee oot o’ mee haand; weel, I wiz resoal’d ta he sum menze apun him, an whin I’d geen him a gùde trist o’ da kreag, an tree or four sonsee knubs aboot da shafts, wee breek-bandit hit, an I laandit him rycht apo da keel o’ hiz bak i da vennal itt ran oot anonder da kuddee doar o’ Andru o Digran’s byar, asyde Donal o Nius’ mukkle flekkit gaat, it wiz cùllin him dere i da runnik—an sek an a runnik—I nevvir saa da lek—what wi da swyne, an da fokk, an what ran oot fre da bes, an da goilgrùve o’ da middeen, du widna gùdablee a seen a prettiar konkurrans fre Ska ta Sumbrooch-hedd—an de wirr datt vyld a ere wee’d whin hee wiz onee ting o’ a glùd apun him, itt hit wiz anioch ta confees a dugg.

scolding with a violence that was unspeakable: because Annie had tethered her new-calved cow upon a lea rig of Meggy’s, that there had not been a mouth upon in that season, and Meggy had cut Anney’s quite new hair tether so small, that it was not a bit too thick to have been a humbla band to a [spinning] wheel. And I will assure you, you would have gone a good piece of way before you found two better scolders. Never may I sin if I did not hear the clatter of their tongues as well above the cliffs, as if I had been upon the very rigs beside them. And now you see, as I was telling you, by comes Steaggie with a pair of halters in his hand. He gives me the time of the day, and asks how is all with me. “Bravely! bravely! good fellow,” says I, “how is all with your self: I warrant you have not a smell in your horn; but why have you not?” “No, devil a pinch has been in my custody this month and more, since I lost my mill one day that I was in the water striking-off two or three limpets to sell at the market.” I took upon me to take out my box out of my waistcoat pocket; and I says, “Well, then, will you smell at my trash:” and with that I takes out his own mill and blows my nose; and, as soon as he set his eyes upon it, the face of him lighted up like a coal, and I says to him, “Brother, know you this snuff-mill?” “No, not I, dear; how should I know! may no good know of me, as I know not. A pretty mill it is, where fell you in with it?” “Where I fell in with this knife.” I entrapped him and took out the jackalegs. “May be, you know not it neither: yes, thou may hesitate, thou ill-fed thief that thou art: you thought nothing of putting thy mark” (his mark was the left ear slit behind, and the right ear pierced with a hole) “upon my colt: now before thou and I part, never may my hand help my body, if I do not set my mark upon thee.” (Our mark was both the ears off; but we had another one besides that.) And with that same I gripped him by the throttle; and, what think you, Peter! I was that ill to satisfy, that I am more than certain I would not have left the wretch the shape of an ear, if Duncan of Sandle had not come behind me and snatched the knife out of my hand. Well, I was resolved to have some satisfaction on him, and when I had given him a good grip of the throat, and three or four weighty thumps about the chops, we parted, and I landed him right upon the keel of his back, in the kennel that ran under the short door of Andrew of Digran’s cow house, beside Donal of Nius’ great speckled goat, that was cooling himself there, in the puddle, and such an