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parritch nane! (Pointing to the bowls, and then pressing his stomach.) Tuim there! tuim here! Woe worth it! to say they wad be fou, an' they're no fou! Woe worth it! woe worth them a'!

Han's aff, I tell thee!

Hast brought ony thing? Gie me 't, gie me 't.

Stan' aff, I say! Nane o' your witch nips for me! I hae, maybe, brought what thou winna like, an tu hae wit enough to ken what it is.

Will 't kill me?

Ay; fule as he is, he's frightened for't;—the true mark of warlockry. They hae linket him in wi' the rest: naething's owre waff for Satan, an it hae a saul o' ony kind to be tint.

Will 't kill me?