An' i' the mornin', whan the licht cam', I faund that my face was to the risin' sun.

And I crap oot o' the bog, an' hame to my ain hoose.

An' ilka body 'at I met o' the road took the tither side o' 't, and glowert at me as gin I had been a ghaist or a warlock.

An' the bairns playin' aboot the doors ran in like rabbits whan they got sicht o' me.

An' I begud to think 'at something fearsome had signed me for a reprobate; an' I jist closed my door, and gaed to my bed, and loot my wark stan', for wha cud wark wi' damnation hingin' ower his heid?
An' three days gaed ower me, that nothing passed my lips but a drap o' milk an' water.