But I'm thinkin' he'll cure me better yet nor he cured that blin' man.

He'll jist tak' the body aff o' me a'thegither, and syne I'll see, no wi' een like yours, but wi' my haill speeritual body.

Ye min' that verse i' the prophecees o' Ezakiel: I ken't weel by hert.

It says: 'And their whole boady, and their backs, and their han's, and their wings, and the wheels, were full of eyes roon aboot, even the wheels that they four had.' Isna that a gran' text?
I wiss Mr Turnbull wad tak' it into his heid to preach frae that text sometime afore it comes, which winna be that lang, I'm thinkin'.

The wheels'll be stoppin' at my door or lang." "What gars ye think that, Tibbie?
There's no sign o' deith aboot you, I'm sure," said Annie.
"Weel, ye see, I canna weel say.