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Welsh, James C.

"The Underworld The Story of Robert Sinclair, Miner"


"That's the Chancellor o' the Exchequer," said one of the delegates to
Robert, pointing out the individual named. "He's a wee eatin'-an'-spued'
lookin' thing when you see him sittin' there, isn't he?"
"Ay," answered Robert casually, as he surveyed the group. "I was just
wondering how it was they had a' gained such reputations. In appearance
they are not much to boast about."
"Ach, they're jist a lot o' oily tongued wheedlers," was the reply, "an'
that wee ferrit-eyed yin is the worst o' them a'. Just wait till he
begins to speak, an' you'll think he's a showman. He can fairly pit on
the butter, an' he'll send us a' away hame in the belief that we're the
finest set o' men he ever met, an' mak' us feel that if we decide to do
anything against what he recommends, the hale country will gang to
ruin."
"Oh," said Robert, as his fellow delegate paused, "I've read aboot him."
"Ay, but wait till you hear him. We can a' come up here as angry as
hell, ready to string him up to the nearest lamp-post; but after he has
spoken an' slaivered ower us for a while, we begin to feel differently,
an' finally gang awa hame wi' our minds made up that we are the salt o'
the earth.


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