"Aften I spaed to them the way that it would end.

Twa shillin' Scots; no pickle mair; and there are twa bonny callants hingin' for 't! They took it frae a wean[8] belanged to Brouchton." "Ay!" said I to myself, and not to the daft limmer, "and did they come to such a figure for so poor a business?
This is to lose all indeed." "Gie's your loof,[9] hinny," says she, "and let me spae your weird to ye." "No, mother," said I, "I see far enough the way I am.

It's an unco thing to see too far in front." "I read it in your bree," she said.

"There's a bonnie lassie that has bricht een, and there's a wee man in a braw coat, and a big man in a pouthered wig, and there's the shadow of the wuddy,[10] joe, that lies braid across your path.

Gie's your loof, hinny, and let Auld Merren spae it to ye bonny." The two chance shots that seemed to point at Alan and the daughter of James More, struck me hard; and I fled from the eldritch creature, casting her a baubee, which she continued to sit and play with under the moving shadows of the hanged.
My way down the causeway of Leith Walk would have been more pleasant to me but for this encounter.