"It is to be remembered, friend, that your craft, which doth very well for a living in the douce city of Perth, is something too mechanical to be much esteemed at the foot of Ben Lawers and on the banks of Loch Tay.

We have not a Gaelic word by which we can even name a maker of gloves." "It would be strange if you had, friend Niel," said Simon, drily, "having so few gloves to wear.

I think there be none in the whole Clan Quhele, save those which I myself gave to Gilchrist MacIan, whom God assoilzie, who esteemed them a choice propine.

Most deeply do I regret his death, for I was coming to him on express business." "You had better turn the nag's head southward with morning light," said the herdsman.

"The funeral is instantly to take place, and it must be with short ceremony; for there is a battle to be fought by the Clan Quhele and the Clan Chattan, thirty champions on a side, as soon as Palm Sunday next, and we have brief time either to lament the dead or honour the living." "Yet are my affairs so pressing, that I must needs see the young chief, were it but for a quarter of an hour," said the glover.
"Hark thee, friend," replied his host, "I think thy business must be either to gather money or to make traffic.