His min' though cawpable a hantle mair nor
a body wad think 'at didna ken him sae weel as I du, is certainly
weyk--though maybe the weykness lies mair i' the tongue than
i' the brain o' 'im efter a'--an' he's been sair frichtit wi'
some guideship or ither; the upshot o 't a' bein', 'at he's unco
timoursome, and ready to bursten himsel' rinnin' whan there's nane
pursuin'. But he's the gentlest o' craturs--a doonricht gentleman,
mem, gien ever there was ane--an' that kin'ly wi' a' cratur, baith
man an' beast! A verra bairn cud guide him--ony gait but ane."
"Anywhere but to his mother!" exclaimed Mrs Stewart, pressing her
handkerchief to her eyes, and sobbed as she spoke. "There is a
child he is very fond of, I am told," she added, recovering herself.
"He likes a' bairns," returned Malcolm, "an' they 're maistly
a' freen'ly wi' him. But there's but jist ae thing 'at maks life
endurable till 'im. He suffers a hantle (a great deal) wi' that
puir back o' his, an' wi' his breath tu whan he's frichtit, for
his hert gangs loupin like a sawmon in a bag net. An' he suffers
a hantle, forbye, in his puir feeble min tryin' to unnerstan' the
guid things 'at fowk tells him, an' jaloosin' it's his ain wyte 'at
he disna unnerstan' them better an' whiles he thinks himsel' the
child o' sin and wrath, an' that Sawtan has some special propriety
in him, as the carritchis says--"
"But," interrupted the lady hurriedly, "you were going to tell me
the one comfort he has.
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