'There I was my ain maister.

Now I'm a slave to the Goavernment, tethered to the roadside, wi' sair een, and a back like a suckle.' He took up the hammer, struck a stone, dropped the implement with an oath, and put both hands to his ears.

'Mercy on me! My heid's burstin'!' he cried.
He was a wild figure, about my own size but much bent, with a week's beard on his chin, and a pair of big horn spectacles.
'I canna dae't,' he cried again.

'The Surveyor maun just report me.
I'm for my bed.' I asked him what was the trouble, though indeed that was clear enough.
'The trouble is that I'm no sober.

Last nicht my dochter Merran was waddit, and they danced till fower in the byre.