Languages & literature > A window in Thrums

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A WINDOW IN THRUMS
I was a lassie workin’ at the farm o’ the Bog ? Ay,
that was afore me an’ Hendry kent ane anither, an’
I was as fleet on my feet in thae days as Leeby is
noo. It was Sam’l Fletcher ’at was the farmer, but
he maun hae been gone afore you was mair than
born. Mebbe, though, ye ken ’at he was a terrible
invalid, an’ for the hinmost years o’ his life he sat in
a muckle chair nicht an’ day. Ay, when I took his
denner to ’im, on that very tray ’at Johnny cam for,
I little thocht ’at by-an’-by I would be sae keepit in
a chair mysel.
“But the thinkin’ o’ Sam’l Fletcher’s case is ane
o’ the things 'at maks me awfu’ thankfu’ for the
lenient wy the Lord has aye dealt wi’ me; for Sam’l
couldna move oot o’ the chair, aye sleepin’ in’t at
nicht, an’ I can come an’ gang between mine an’ my
bed. Mebbe ye think I’m no much better off than
Sam’l, but that’s a terrible mistak. What a glory it
would hae been to him if he could hae gone frae
one end o’ the kitchen to the ither. Ay, I’m sure
o’ that.
“ Sam’l was rale weel liked, for he was saft-spoken
to everybody, an’ fond o’ ha’en a gossip wi’ ony ane
’at was aboot the farm. We didna care sae muckle