He was an unco shaver
For mony a day.'
Dam't, but Burns is gude."
"Huts, man, dinna sweer sae muckle!" frowned the old Provost.
"Ou, there's waur than an oath now and than," said the baker. "Like spice in a bun it lends a briskness. But it needs the hearty manner wi't. The Deacon there couldna let blatter wi' a hearty oath to save his withered sowl. I kenned a trifle o' a fellow that got in among a jovial gang lang syne that used to sweer tremendous, and he bude to do the same the bit bodie; so he used to say 'Dim it!' in a wee, sma voice that was clean rideec'lous. He was a lauchable dirt, that."
"What was his name?" said Sandy Toddle.
"Your ain," said the baker. (To tell the truth, he was gey fou.) "Alexander Toddle was his name: 'Dim it!' he used to squeak, for he had been a Scotch cuddy in the Midlands, and whiles he used the English. 'Dim it!' said he. I like a man that says 'Dahm't.'"
"Ay; but then, you thee, you're an artitht in wordth," said the Deacon.
"Ye're an artist in spite," said the baker.