A. widow's story. 325 



ye had V when a' on a suddint a great muckle hand cam' doon 

 frae the sky, and puttin' its finger and thoom roond my guid- 

 man, lifted him clean oot o' my sicht jist in a meenit. The 

 fricht o' the dream waukened me, and I turned on my side 

 and lookit at whaur the fire ought tae be, but it was a' black- 

 ness. The hoose was shakin' as if the great muckle hand had 

 gruppit it by the gavel, and was shakin' it like a wunnelstraw. 

 Hech, sir, ye leeve up in a toon o' lands, and dinna ken what 

 a storm is. Aiblins ye get up in" the mornin' and see a tree or 

 twa lyin' across the road, and a lum tummilt ower the rufe, and 

 a kittlin' or twa smoort aneath an auld barrel ; but bless ye, 

 sir, that's no a storm sic as we folk on the seaside ken o'. 

 Na, na ! The sky — sky ! there's nae sky, a' is as black as 

 black can be ; ye may put your hand oot and fill your nieve 

 wi' the darkness, exceppin' the times when the lichtnin' flashes 

 doon like a twisted threid o' purple gowd; and then ye can 

 see the waves lookia' ower ane anither's heads, and gnashin' 

 their teeth, as ye micht think, and cryin' oot in their anger for 

 puir folk's lives. Siccan a nicht it was when I waukened. 

 My guidman had been oot in mony a storm afore, sae I com- 

 forted mysel' wi' thinkin' that he would gey and likely mak 

 for North Berwick or Dunbar when he saw the wather airtin 

 for coorse. I wasna frichtened, yet I coudna sleep for the 

 roarin' o' the wind. Mornin' cam'. I gaed doon tUl the shore, 

 and a' the wives and sweethearts o' the Pans gaed wi' me. 

 There was a heavy fog on the sea, sae thick that neither 

 Inchkeith nor the Law were to be seen. Naething was there 

 but the sea and the muckle waves lowpin' up and dashin'' 

 themselves tae death on the rocks and the sands. Eastwards 

 and westwards we lookit, an' better lookit, but naething was 

 till be seen but the fog and the angry roarin' sea— no a boat, 

 no a sail was visible on a' the wild waters. Weel, we had a 

 lang confab on the shore as tae what our guidmen and our 

 sweethearts micht aiblins hae dune. It was settled amang us 

 without a doot that they had gane intill North Berwick or 

 Dunbar, and sae we expeckit that in the afternoon they would 

 maybe tak' the road, and come hame till comfort us. After 

 denner we — that is, the wives and sweethearts — took the gait 

 and went as far as Gosfort Sands till meet our guidmen and 

 the lads. The rain was pourin' ddon like mad ; but what was 

 that till us ? we were lookin' for what was a' the world till our 

 bosoms, and through wind and weet we went tae find it, and 



