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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Alec Forbes of Howglen"

But, man! I wad hae repentit lang syne
gin I cud hae gotten ae glimp o' a possible justice in pittin a hert as
grit's mine into sic a misgreein', scrimpit, contemptible body as this.
The verra sowl o' me has to draw up the legs o' 't to haud them inside
this coffin o' a corpus, and haud them ohn shot oot into the
everlastin' cauld. Man, the first thing I did, whan I cam' to mysel',
was to justify her afore God for lauchin at me. Hoo could onybody help
lauchin at me? It wasna her wyte. And eh! man, ye dinna ken hoo quaiet
and comfortable I was in my ain min', as sune's I had gotten her
justified to mysel' and had laid it doon that I was ane fit to be
lauchen at.--I winna lat you lauch at me, though, bantam. I tell ye
that."
"Mr Cupples! Laugh at you! I would rather be a doormat to the devil,'
exclaimed Alec.
"Thank you, bantam.--Weel, ye see, ance I had made up my min' aboot
that, I jist began followin' at her again like a hungry tyke that stops
the minute ye liuk roon efter him--I mean i' my thochts, ye ken--jist
as I had been followin' her, a' the time o' my fiver, throu the halls
o' heaven, as I thoucht them, whan they war only the sma'
crinkle-crankle convolutions o' my cerebral dome-???a puir heaven for a
man to bide in! I hae learnt that waur and better than maist men, as
I'm gaein to tell ye; for it was for the sake o' that that I begud this
dismal story.


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