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 lodging house for Sailors. On Saturday night Babie was making a Haggis, for Sunday’s dinner, when one of her lodger’s butput [sic] four ounce of quicksilver into the Haggis, unknown to Babie. On Sunday, Will was left at home to cook the dinner; but when the pot began to boil, the Haggis would be out of the pot; Will faithful to his charges held the lid on the pot until his patience was exhausted—at last Will ran off to the church for Babie; she sat on one of the back pews; Will beckoned to her two or three times, Babie as often nodded and winked to Will to be quiet; at last he bawled out, “Babie come hame, for I believe the deil’s got into the Haggis, it’ll no bide in the pat, it’s out dancing on the floor, and if I had not locked the door, I think it would have been at the kirk as soon’s mysel.”

The following is preserved traditionally as the grace of the farmer of Kellochsyde or Killocsyde, in Clydesdale:—O Lord, we’r ay gangan, and we’r ay gettan. We soud ay be cuman to thee, but we’r ay forgettan. We leive in the gude mailen o’ Kellochsyde, suppan thy gude peisie kale, puir sinfou sons of——that we are. Monie mercies we receive, gude trowth: and we’r little thankfou