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 but 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'! but it's an unco life to be a

sailor--a cauld, wanchancy life. Mony's the gliff I got mysel' in the

great deep; and why the Lord should hae made yon unco water is mair than

ever I could win to understand. He made the vales and the pastures, the

bonny green yaird, the halesome, canty land--

And now they shout and sing to Thee,

For Thou hast made them glad,

as the Psalms say in the metrical version. No that I would preen my

faith to that clink neither; but it's bonny, and easier to mind. "Who go

to sea in ships," they hae't again--

And in

Great waters trading be,

Within the deep these men God's works

And His great wonders see.

Weel, it's easy sayin' sae. Maybe Dauvit wasnae very weel acquant wi'

the sea. But, troth, if it wasnae prentit in the Bible, I wad whiles be

temp'it to think it wasnae the Lord, but the muckle, black deil that made

the sea. There's naething good comes oot o't but the fish; an' the

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