Ye sud hae thoucht twise, man." "'Deed, sir," answered Robert, quietly finishing his pinch of snuff, "there was sma' need, an' less time to think, an' Glashgar bursten, an' the watter comin' ower the tap o' the bit hoosie as gien 'twar a muckle owershot wheel, an' no a place for fowk to bide in.

Ye dinna think Janet an' me wad be twa sic auld fules as pit on oor Sunday claes to sweem in, gien we thoucht to see things as we left them whan we gaed back! Ye see, sir, though the hoose be fun't upo' a rock, it's maist biggit o' fells, an' the foundation's a' I luik even to see o' 't again.

Whan the force o' the watter grows less, it'll come down upo' the riggin' wi' the haill weicht o' 't." "Ay!" said Janet, in a low voice, "the live stanes maun come to the live rock to bigg the hoose 'at'll stan." "What think ye, Maister Fergus, you 'at's gauin' to be a minister ?" said Robert, referring to his wife's words, as the young man looked in at the door of the kitchen.
"Lat him be," interposed his father, blowing his nose with unnecessary violence; "setna him preachin' afore's time.

Fess the whusky, Fergus, an' gie auld Robert a dram.

Haith! gien the watter be rinnin' ower the tap o' yer hoose, man, it was time to flit.
Fess twa or three glaisses, Fergus; we hae a' need o' something 'at's no watter.