Tak a dram, an' tak hert, an' dinna fling the calf efter the coo.

Whaur's yer boatle, sir ?" John paid no heed to her suggestion, but Jean took it up.
"The boatle's whaur ye s' no lay han' upo' 't," she said.
"Weel, gien ye hae nae mercy upo' yer whusky, ye sud hae some upo' yer horse-beasts, ony gait," said the woman indignantly.
"What mean ye by that ?" returned Jean, with hard voice, and eye of blame.
"Ye might at the leest gie the puir things a chance," the woman rejoined.
"Hoo wad ye dee that ?" said Jean.

"Gien ye lowsed them they wad but tak to the watter wi' fear, an' droon the seener." "Na, na, Jean," interposed the farmer, "they wad tak care o' themsel's to the last, an' aye haud to the dryest, jist as ye wad yersel'." "Allooin'," said the stranger, replying to Jean, yet speaking rather as if to herself, while she thought about something else, "I wad raither droon soomin' nor tied by the heid .-- But what's the guid o' doctrine whaur there's onything to be dune ?--Ye hae whaur to put them .-- What kin' 's the fleers (floors) up the stair, sir ?" she asked abruptly, turning full on her host, with a flash in her deep-set black eyes.
"Ow, guid dale fleers--what ither ?" answered the farmer.

"-- It's the wa's, wuman, no the fleers we hae to be concernt aboot i' this wather." "Gien the j'ists be strang, an' weel set intil the wa's, what for sudna ye tak the horse up the stair intil yer bedrooms?
It'll be a' to the guid o' the wa's, for the weicht o' the beasts 'll be upo' them to haud them doon, an' the haill hoose again' the watter.

An' gien I was you, I wad pit the best o' the kye an' the nowt intil the parlour an' the kitchen here.