nd."

"Peece, vile slave, or I'll dekappytate ye wi' my skittimir," says
Sandy, glowerin' at Stumpie.

"He thinks he's the Shaw o' Persha," says Bandy, fingerin' awa' amon'
Sandy's hair.

Here Sandy took to the greetin', an' grat something fearfu'.

"Bliss me," says Dauvid Kenawee, "I never saw the like o' that. Is he
ac'ually sleepin'?"

"As soond's a tap," says Bandy, an' he touched Sandy again an' stoppit
the greetin'. "Noo, we'll see what like a job he wud mak' o' a speech
at a ward meetin'," continued Bandy; an' he gae Sandy a slap on the
shuder an' says, "Noo, Mester Bowden, we're at a ward meetin', an'
you're stanin' for the Cooncil. There's Pottie Lawson in the chair,
an' it's your turn to speak noo. Lat's hear ye gie them a gude screed
on the topiks of the day."

Sandy gae a bit hauch, an' swallowed a spittal, an' stappin' forrit a
bittie, began--"Mester Chairman----" He gae Pottie a glower that
nearhand knokit him aff the box he was sittin' on. "Mester Chairman,"
says he, "we are gaithered thegither to meet wan anither as fella
ratepayers. If you want a tip-top cooncillor, I'm your man.
Regairdin' this noo kirkyaird bisness, I think it's ridic'lous to spend
the toon's bawbees buyin' buryin' grund for fowk that's no' deid. Time
eneuch to look oot for buryin' grund when fowk's deid. An' lat fowk
bury themsel's, juist as they like. Lat them look oot for their ain
grund, an' no' bather the ratepeyers lookin' oot grund for them. We'll
hae to get oor brakfast frae the Toon Cooncil by an' by, an' it'll a'
go on the rates, that's juist as fac's ocht. A' thing's on' the rates
nooadays, frae births to burals. But I hear wan of my audience cry,
'What aboot the Auld Kirk?' Weel, that's anither question. I think
that the shuner the Auld Kirk's aff the pairis the better. We've
plenty paupirs withoot it. If it canna do withoot parokial relief, lat
it into the puirhoose. That's what they wud do wi' you an' me if we
was needin' on the pairis. What d'ye think o' that? Then there's the
toon's wall an' the herbir. Weel, there's no muckle in ony o' them.
There's hardly ony watter i' the teen, an' there's naething but watter
i' the tither. But mibby if there was a noo licence or twa doon aboot
the shore, there micht be mair traffik i' the herbir. The trustees wud
mibby need to chairge shore dues on lads 'at was landit on the kee
noo-an'-than. They cud be shedild as live stock, altho' they were
half-d