His eyebrows were lifted as far as they would go above his red-lidded blue eyes, and there was a succession of ripply wrinkles over each of them, which met in the middle of his forehead, so that he was all over arches.

Under his cap stuck out enormous ears, much too large for his face.

Huge veiny hands hung trembling by his sides, but they trembled more from anger than from age.
"I tellt ye a'ready," answered Cosmo; "I come frae the auld country." "Deil tak the auld country! What care I for the auld country! It's a braid place, an' langer nor it's braid, an' there's mony ane intil't an' oot on't 'at's no warth the parritch his mither pat intil 'im.

Eh, the fowth o' fushionless beggars I hae seen come to me like yersel'!--Ow ay! it was aye wark they wad hae!--an' cudna du mair nor a flee amo' triacle!--What coonty are ye frae, wi' the lang legs an' the lang back-bane o' ye ?" Cosmo told him.

The hands of the old man rose from his sides, and made right angles of his elbows.
"Weel," he said slowly, "that's no an ill coonty to come frae.