"Our agriculture is ruined," said the Laird of Broken-girth-flow, a territory, which, since the days of Adam, had borne nothing but ling and whortleberries.
"Our religion is cut up, root and branch," said the pimple-nosed pastor of the Episcopal meeting-house at Kirkwhistle.
"We shall shortly neither dare shoot a deer or kiss a wench, without a certificate from the presbytery and kirk-treasurer," said Mareschal-Wells.
"Or make a brandy Jeroboam in a frosty morning, without licence from a commissioner of excise," said the smuggler. "Or ride over the fell in a moonless night," said Westburnflat, "without asking leave of young Earnscliff, or some Englified justice of the peace; thae were gude days on the Border when there was neither peace nor justice heard of."
"Let us remember our wrongs at Darien and Glencoe," continued Ellieslaw, "and take arms for the protection of our
