The Lord hae mercy upo' ye! The goddess o' the rainbow hersel's gotten a haud o' ye, and ye'll be seein' naething but rainbows for years to come .-- Iris bigs bonnie brigs, but they hae nowther pier, nor buttress, nor key-stane, nor parapet.

And no fit can gang ower them but her ain, and whan she steps aff, it's upo' men's herts, and yours can ill bide her fit, licht as it may be." "What are ye propheseein' at, Mr Cupples ?" said Alec, who did not more than half understand him.
"Verra weel.

I'm no drunk yet," rejoined Mr Cupples, oracularly.

"But that chield Beauchamp's no rainbow--that lat me tell ye.

He'll do you a mischeef yet, gin ye dinna luik a' the shairper.