The New Statistical Account of Scotland: Inverness, Ross and Cromarty

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W. Blackwood and Sons, 1845 - Scotland
 

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Page 308 - How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
Page 303 - But here, — above, around, below, On mountain or in glen, Nor tree, nor shrub, nor plant, nor flower, Nor aught of vegetative power, The weary eye may ken.
Page 307 - ... joy and crown of rejoicing in the day of the Lord Jesus.
Page 12 - ... were seized at nearly the same time by consumption. In one the progress of the disease was rapid — he died two short months after he was attacked by it ; while the other, though wasted almost to a shadow, had yet strength enough left to follow the corpse of his companion to the grave. The name of the survivor was Fiddler — a name still common among the seafaring men of the town.
Page 308 - ... the work of an evangelist, and made! full proof of his ministry.
Page 274 - The wicked shall see it, and be grieved ; he shall gnash with his teeth, and melt away : the desire of the wicked shall perish.
Page 303 - Hath rent a strange and shatter'd way Through the rude bosom of the hill, And that each naked precipice, Sable ravine, and dark abyss, Tells of the outrage still. The wildest glen, but this, can show Some touch of Nature's genial glow ; On high Benmore green mosses grow, And heath-bells bud in deep...
Page 265 - We were entertained with the usual hospitality by Mr. Macdonald and his lady Flora Macdonald, a name that will be mentioned in history, and if courage and fidelity be virtues, mentioned with honour.
Page 419 - She put little crumbs of this into the gap of her teeth, rolled them about for some time in her mouth, and then sucked out of the palm of her hand a little water, whey, or milk } and this only once or twice a-day, and even that by compulsion. She never attempted to speak ; her jaws were fast locked, and her eyes shut. On opening...
Page 206 - ... little cokill, as it appearit to me. Out of this well runs ther ane little strype downwith to the sea, and quher it enters into the sea ther is ane myle braid of sands, quhilk ebbs ane - myle, callit the Trayrmore of Killbaray, that is, the Grate sandes of Barray.

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