There on the Sabbath evenings she sometimes talked to me of Joey.
"It's been a fine day," she would say, "juist like that day.

I thank the Lord for the sunshine noo, but oh, I thocht at the time I couldna look at the sun shinin' again." "In all Thrums," she has told me, and I know it to be true, "there's no a better man than Hendry.

There's them 'at's cleverer in the wys o' the world, but my man, Hendry McQumpha, never did naething in all his life 'at wasna weel intended, an' though his words is common, it's to the Lord he looks.

I canna think but what Hendry's pleasin' to God.
Oh, I dinna ken what to say wi' thankfulness to Him when I mind hoo guid he's been to me.

There's Leeby 'at I couldna hae done withoot, me bein sae silly (weak bodily), an' ay Leeby's stuck by me an' gien up her life, as ye micht say, for me.