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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Warlock o' Glenwarlock"

Next appeared
a wing built out from the back of the inner court of the castle--in
a dilapidated, almost dangerous condition. Then he came to a great
hedge of yew, very lofty, but very thin, like a fence of old wire
that had caught cart-loads of withered rubbish in its meshes. Here
he heard the sound of a spade, and by the accompanying sounds
judged the implement was handled by an old man. He peeped through
the hedge, and caught sight of him. Old he was--bent with years,
but tough, wiry, and sound, and it seemed to Cosmo that the sighs
and groans, or rather grunts, which he uttered, were more of
impatience and discontent than oppression or weakness. As he stood
regarding him for a moment, anxious to discover with what sort of
man he had to deal, he began to mutter. Presently he ceased
digging, drew himself up as straight as he could, and, leaning on
his spade, went on, as if addressing his congregation of cabbages
over the book-board of a pulpit. And now his muttering took, to the
ears of Cosmo, an indistinct shape like this:
"Wha cares for an auld man like me? I kenna what for there sud be
auld men made! The banes o' me micht melt i' the inside o' me, an'
never a sowl alive du mair for me nor berry me to get rid o' the
stink! No 'at I'm that dooms auld i' mysel' them 'at wad hae my
place wad hae me!"
Here was a chance for him, Cosmo thought; for at least here was a
fellow-countryman. He went along the hedge therefore until he found
a place where he could get through, and approached the man, who had
by this time resumed his work, though after a listless fashion,
turning over spadeful after spadeful, as if neither he nor the
cabbages cared much, and all would be in good time if done by the
end of the world.


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