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Various

"Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume XXIII"

She would throw her
jewelled arms about his neck, and hang upon him, with her feet off the
ground, so little, light, and lithe. She was so like a sapling, you
could have bent her any way. And when the love was in her heart, and it
was never absent, she was really bonny. Our eyes hereaway are mere
cinders to these glowing churley bits of flaming sulphur; and then that
strange look of the shining face, just as if she yearned to enter into
his very soul,--ay, as the souls of these black creatures go up and form
a part of Brahma's spirit, that's all over the earth."
"All art," cried Aminadab, getting impatient of Janet's
eloquence--eloquence, I say; for Janet was a superior woman, and, though
a cook, a natural genius. "All art. 'And he made her to use
enchantments, and deal with familiar spirits and wizards,'"
"No, no, man, it was all real nature. But it wasna real nature made him
throw the poor black soul away, whose gold and jewels he had bartered
his white, I should say yellow, rotten-livered body for. Ay, if she had
been a man, I would have liked her better than him; for, as I hate the
skin of an old hen when the fat becomes rancid and golden, so do I hate
a yellow-faced man, with the devil sitting gnawing at his liver.


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