Scotland/Scots > Licht frae the smiddy o' Saunders Dinwuddie

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WANDERKR.
auld hoart grows grit, saft, and tender as the heart
o’ a silly bairn, when I think on’t.’
“ ‘ Were you present on the melancholy occasion,
Allan, ’ said I, ‘ when a’ your goods and gear were
roupit ?’
“ ‘ O, Saunders, how could I stand amang the
crowd o’ auld neighbours, and see my cozie nest
in the Lownlands tom to coupons, and the feathers
scattered, I ken na whaur. Sic a sight would ha’e
broken my poor auld heart outright, and brought
down my grey hairs wi’ sorrow to the grave,’ was
Allan’s reply.
“ ‘ Indeed, Allan, I’m no surprised that ye were
na there. To bide sic a gruesome sight would
need a man wi’ a heart as cauld and as hard as my
study when it’s no in use. But how did Mysie
bear sic a heavy burden of affliction ? It was a
burden heavy aneuch to break the back and crush
the banes of an elephant.’
“ ‘ As sure’s onything, Saunders, I thought it
would be the death of her, poor thing. The love I
had for her gart me keep back frae her mony a
thing that would ha’e grieved her. But when I
saw that ruin was cornin’ fast upon us, I tauld her
a’ that was likely to befa’ us. As she hearkened
to my dolefu’ story, she wrung her hands and grat
sair. A sick dwaum came owre her, and the
cauld sweat stood on her brow, and she ga’e a wild
scream, and would ha’e wumlt aff the seat she was
sitting on had I no keppit her in my arms and
laid her doun on a sofa, and ga’e her a wee drap
o’ cordial to keep her vexed spirit frae loupin’ out
o’ her frail body. It was a tryin’ time to her and
me. My head spun, my een reeled, and my