dead
at my mother's side in Newbattle kirkyard!'--'Hout, lassie,' said
Ratcliffe, willing to show the interest which he absolutely felt,
'dinna be sae dooms doon-hearted as a' that; there's mony a tod
hunted that's no killed. Advocate Langtale has brought folk through
waur snappers than a' this, and there's no a cleverer agent than
Nichil Novit e'er drew a bill o' suspension.'"--_Heart of
Midlothian._

There's mony chances, baith o' gude and ill, befa' folk in this warld.

There's muckle ado when dominies ride.

When people engage in a thing to which they are unaccustomed the
necessity must be urgent. A Peeblesshire couplet embodies the same
meaning:--

"There's muckle ado when muirland folk ride--
Boots and spurs, and a' to provide!"

There's muckle between the word and the deed.

There's muckle hid meat in a goose's ee.

There's muckle love in bands and bags.

"There's meikle good love in bands and bags,
And siller and gowd's a sweet complexion;
But beauty and wit, and virtue in rags,
Have tint the art of gaining affection."--_Tea-Table Miscellany._

There's my thoom, I'll ne'er beguile thee.

This is the name of an old Scottish song, but is often used as a
proverb.

There's nae breard like middling breard.

Applied to low-born people who suddenly come to wealth and honour;
in allusion to the stalks of corn which spring up on a dunghill.

There's nae birds this year in last year's nest.

There's nae corn without cauf.

There's nae fey folk's meat in my pat.

There's nae friend like the penny.

There's nae friend to friend in mister.

There's nae fules like auld fules.

"Your auntie's no past the time o' day yet for jumping at a man if
she just had the offer. There's no fules like auld fules; and tak ye
my word for't, Maister James, neither your lass nor mines cares half
as muckle about mautrimony as your aunty."--_The Disruption._

There's nae hair sae sma' but has its shadow.

There's nae hawk flees sae high but he will fa' to some lure.

"There's nae ill in a merry mind," quo' the wife when she whistled
through the kirk.

There's nae iron sae hard but rust will fret it; there's nae claith sae
fine but moths will eat it.

There's nae lack in love.

There's nae reek but there's some heat.

There's nae remede for fear but cut aff the head.

There's nae sel sae dear as our