As I was saying, there was a Providence in this, which, at the time, mortal man could never have thought of.
James Batter had popped in with a newspaper in his hand, to read me a curious account of a mermaid, that was seen singing a Gaelic song, and combing its hair with a tortoise-shell comb, someway terrible far north about Shetland, by a respectable minister of the district, riding home in the gloaming after a presbytery dinner.

So, as he was just taking off his spectacles cannily, and saying to me--"And was not that droll ?"--the lassie spread down her towel on the counter, when, lo and behold! such an abominable spectacle! James Batter observing me run back, and turn white, put on his glasses again, cannily taking them out of his well-worn shagreen case, and, giving a stare down at the towel, almost touched the beast's nose with his own.
"And what, in the name of goodness, is the matter ?" quo' James Batter; "ye seem in a wonderful quandary." "The matter!" answered I, in astonishment; looking to see if the man had lost his sight or his senses--"the matter! who ever saw a sheep's head with straight horns, and a visnomy all colours of the rainbow--red, blue, orange, green, yellow, white, and black ?" "'Deed it is," said James, after a nearer inspection; "it must be a lowsy- naturay.

I'm sure I have read most of Buffon's books, and I have never heard tell of the like.

It's gey an' queerish." "'Od, James," answered I, "ye take every thing very canny; you're a philosopher, to be sure; but, I daresay, if the moon was to fall from the lift, and knock down the old kirk, ye would say no more than 'it's gey an' queerish!'" "Queerish, man! do ye not see that ?" added I, shoving down his head mostly on the top of it.

"Do ye not see that?
awful, most awful! extonishing!! Do ye not see that long beard?
Who, in the name of goodness, ever was an eyewitness to a sheep's head, in a Christian land, with a beard like an unshaven Jew crying 'owl clowes,' with a green bag over his left shoulder!" "Dog on it," said James, giving a fidge with his hainches; "Dog on it, as I am a living sinner, that is the head of a Willie-goat." "Willie or Nannie," answered I, "it's not meat for me; and never shall an ounce of it cross the craig of my family:--that is as sure as ever James Batter drave a shuttle.