onny knock,[3] but it'll no gang; and the
napery's by ordnar. Bonny, bairnly braws; it's for the like o' them folk
sells the peace of God that passeth understanding; it's for the like o'
them, an' maybe no' even sae muckle worth, folk daunton God to His face
and burn in muckle hell; and it's for that reason the Scripture ca's
them, as I read the passage, the accursed thing.--Mary, ye girzie," he
interrupted himself to cry with some asperity, "what for hae ye no' put
out the twa candlesticks?"

"Why should we need them at high noon?" she asked.

But my uncle was not to be turned from his idea. "We'll bruik[4] them
while we may," he said; and so two massive candlesticks of wrought
silver were added to the table equipage, already so unsuited to that
rough seaside farm.

"She cam' ashore Februar' 10, about ten at nicht," he went on to me.
"There was nae wind, and a sair run o' sea; and she was in the sook o'
the Roost, as I jaloose. We had seen her a' day, Rorie and me, beating
to the wind. She wasna a handy craft, I'm thinking, that _Christ-Anna_;
for she would neither steer nor stey wi' them. A sair day they had of
it; their hands was never aff the sheets, and it perishin' cauld--ower
cauld to snaw; and aye they would get a bit nip o' wind, and awa' again,
to pit the emp'y hope into them. Eh, man! but they had a sair day for
the last o't! He would have had a prood, prood heart that won ashore
upon the back o' that."

"And were all lost?" I cried. "God help them!"

"Wheesht!" he said sternly. "Nane shall pray for the deid on my
hearth-stane."

I disclaimed a Popish sense for my ejaculation; and he seemed to accept
my disclaimer with unusual facility, and ran on once more upon what had
evidently become a favourite subject.

"We fand her in Sandag Bay, Rorie an' me, and a' thae braws in the
inside of her. There's a kittle bit, ye see, about Sandag; whiles the
sook rins strong for the Merry Men; an' whiles again, when the tide's
makin' hard an' ye can hear the Roost blawin' at the far-end of Aros,
there comes a back-spang of current straucht into Sandag Bay. Weel,
there's the thing that got the grip on the _Christ-Anna_. She buet to
have come in ram-stam an' stern forrit; for the bows of her are aften
under, and the back-side of her is clear at hie-water o' neaps. But,
man! the dunt that she cam doon wi' when she struck! Lord save us a'l
but it's an unco life to be a sailor--a cauld, wanchancy life. Mony's
the gliff