He asked for a match for his pipe, and the man who gave it wore a decent melancholy on his face and shook his head with unction.
"This is a bad job, Lewie," he said, using the privileged name of the ancient servant.

"Whae would have ettled sic a calaamity to happen in your ain countryside?
We a' thocht it would be a grand pioy for ye, for ye would settle down here and hae nae mair foreign stravaigins.

And then this tailor body steps in and spoils a'.

It's maist vexaatious." "It was a good fight, and he beat me fairly; but we'll drop the matter.
I'm sick--tired of politics, Adam.

If I had been a better man they might have made a herd of me, and I should have been happy." "Wheesht, Lewie," said the man, grinning.