The last of the lairds: or, The life and opinions of Malachi Mailings, esq. of Auldbiggings

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Printed by J. & J. Harper, 1827 - Scotland - 240 pages
 

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Page 150 - Please yoursell to be sure," said Mrs Soorocks, "but wi' a discretion. And what discretion wou'd there be in a feckless auld man to marry a gallopin', gallantin', gigglin' Miss in her teens, and to forsake a sober, douce, sensible, agreeable, judicious woman? I may weel say to you as Mause, in Patie and Roger, says to Bauldy — ' Vow and loup back ! was e'er the like heard tell ? Swith tak him, Deil, he's ower lang out o' ' I'll no attempt to metre't, but it means the ill place.
Page 5 - The garden was suitable to the offices and mansion. It was surrounded, but not enclosed, by an undressed hedge, which in more than fifty places offered tempting admission to the cows. The luxuriant grass-walks were never mowed but just before hay-time, and every stock of kale and cabbage stood in its garmentry of curled blades, like a new-made Glasgow bailie's wife on the first Sunday after Michaelmas, dressed for the kirk in the many-plies of her flounces.
Page 4 - ... belonging, such as peat-stack, dung-heap, and coal-heap, with a bivouacry of invalided utensils, such as bottomless boyns, headless barrels, and brushes maimed of their handles — to say nothing of the body of the cat which the undealt-with packman's cur worried on Saturday se'enight. The garden was suitable to the offices and mansion. It was surrounded, but not enclosed, by an undressed hedge, which in more than fifty places offered tempting admission to the cows.
Page 69 - Behold how good a thing it is, .. And how becoming well, Together such as brethren are In unity to dwell.
Page 110 - ... a gratefu' heart, and be thankfu' to Providence if onything in the shape o' a man is evened to you." The widow made nothing by this taunt, for the indignant spinster retorted — " It would be gude for us a' if we saw oursells as ithers see us ; but if I could hae demeaned mysell to tak...
Page 112 - Her hands were fiercely clenched, her cheeks pale, and her lips quivering, her teeth grinding, and her small greenish-grey eyes sparkling as if they emitted, not constellations of fire only, but visible needles and pins. Miss Girzie had thrown herself between them, and was pushing her sister back by the shoulders, evidently to prevent her from fixing her ten bloodthirsty talons in the imperturbable tranquillity of her antagonist's countenance. On my appearance the storm was instantly hushed, the...

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