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an wha shot her! A deed it was the de'il's Oh hoch, oh hoch, Shenet, we'll a' be kill'd whan the de'il has gotten a gun.
Mag A sweet na wi' us woman, is nit an unco thing they dinna a' flee on the minister
and worry him, when he flytes and misea's them sae, do ye think they hear him?
Jan. A doubtless they baith hear and sees too, they're neither blind nor bleer-eyed, but ay whan ye speak of them, name the day, cry its Wansday thro a' the warld, and there's nae fear or you. Mag. But what do you think o' our minister, is a good man think ye? Jan. Indeed I think he's a gay gabby body, but he has twa fauts, and his wife has
three, he's unco greedy o siller, an he's ay preaching down pride and up charity, an yet he's that fou o pride himsel, that he has gotten a glass window on every side o his nose, and his een is as clear as twa clocks to luck to, he has twa giglet gilliegawkies o' dochters, comes into the kirk wi' their cobletehow mutches frizl'd up as braid's their hips, an clear things like starns about their necks, and at every lug, a walloping white thing hanging like a snotter at a bubly weans nose, syne about their necks, a bit thìn claith like a mouse-web, and their twa bits o' paps playing ay niddity nod, shining throʻ it like twa yearning-bags, shame fa' them and their fligmageries baith, for I get nae good o' the preaching looking at them; and syne a' the
