He was dirty, ragged, unkempt, and feeble, but quite sober, and pathetically anxious for human sympathy.
"I'm achty-sax year auld,' he maundered, apropos of nothing, "achty-sax year auld.

I've seen five lairds o' Pettybaw, sax placed meenisters, an' seeven doctors.

I was a mason, an' a stoot mon i' thae days, but it's a meeserable life noo.

Wife deid, bairns deid! I sit by my lane, an' smoke my pipe, wi' naebody to gi'e me a sup o' water.

Achty-sax is ower auld for a mon,--ower auld." These are the sharp contrasts of life one cannot bear to face when one is young and happy.