Gin ye lippen to them, ye'll be i' the water in a cat-loup." Alec was beginning to enter into the humour of the man.
"I see something like poetry lying about the table, Mr Cupples," said he, with a sly allusion to the _rainbows_.

"Would you let me look at it ?" Mr Cupples glanced at him sharply; but replied immediately: "Broken bits o' them! And the rainbows cast (lose colour) awfu', ance ye tak' the key-stane oot o' them.

Lat them sit up there, brigs (bridges) ower naething, wi' nae road upo' the tap o' them, like the stane brig o' Drumdochart efter the spate (flood).

Haud yer han's and yer een aff o' them, as I tellt ye afore .-- Ay, ay, ye can luik at thae screeds gin ye like.

Only dinna say a word to me aboot ony o' them.