[Rob Roy by Sir Walter Scott]@TWC D-Link bookRob Roy CHAPTER SIXTH 2/11
It wad be sair news to the auld wife below the Ben of Stuckavrallachan, that you, ye Hieland limmer, had knockit out my harns, or that I had kilted you up in a tow.
But ye'll own, ye dour deevil, that were it no your very sell, I wad hae grippit the best man in the Hielands." "Ye wad hae tried, cousin," answered my guide, "that I wot weel; but I doubt ye wad hae come aff wi' the short measure; for we gang-there-out Hieland bodies are an unchancy generation when you speak to us o' bondage.
We downa bide the coercion of gude braid-claith about our hinderlans, let a be breeks o' free-stone, and garters o' iron." "Ye'll find the stane breeks and the airn garters--ay, and the hemp cravat, for a' that, neighbour," replied the Bailie. "Nae man in a civilised country ever played the pliskies ye hae done--but e'en pickle in your ain pock-neuk--I hae gi'en ye wanting." "Well, cousin," said the other, "ye'll wear black at my burial." "Deil a black cloak will be there, Robin, but the corbies and the hoodie-craws, I'se gie ye my hand on that.
But whar's the gude thousand pund Scots that I lent ye, man, and when am I to see it again ?" "Where it is," replied my guide, after the affectation of considering for a moment, "I cannot justly tell--probably where last year's snaw is." "And that's on the tap of Schehallion, ye Hieland dog," said Mr.Jarvie; "and I look for payment frae you where ye stand." "Ay," replied the Highlander, "but I keep neither snaw nor dollars in my sporran.
And as to when you'll see it--why, just when the king enjoys his ain again, as the auld sang says." "Warst of a', Robin," retorted the Glaswegian,--"I mean, ye disloyal traitor--Warst of a'!--Wad ye bring popery in on us, and arbitrary power, and a foist and a warming-pan, and the set forms, and the curates, and the auld enormities o' surplices and cerements? Ye had better stick to your auld trade o' theft-boot, black-mail, spreaghs, and gillravaging--better stealing nowte than ruining nations." "Hout, man--whisht wi' your whiggery," answered the Celt; "we hae ken'd ane anither mony a lang day.
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