A short vocabulary of Braid Scots, the language of the ordinary people of Scotland, as illustrated especially by their folk songs. Includes a brief introduction, a vocabulary of about a thousand words, a selection of folk songs as examples of Scots usage, a brief history of Scottish, and an index.
Can you wonder that, when the following noon I saw Santa Chiara sleeping in its green circlet of meadows, my thought was only of a deep draught and a cool chamber? I protest that I am a great lover of natural beauty, of rock and cascade, and all the properties of the poet: but the enthusiasm of Rousseau himself would sink from the stars to earth if he had marched since breakfast in a cloud of dust...
This is an HTML version of the ebook and may not be properly formatted. Please view the PDF version for the original work.
An excerpt is a selected passage of a larger piece, hence this is not the complete book.
HTML Format is ideal for: Immediate preview in any browser, Translations
PDF Format is ideal for: PC's & Macs, iPhone, and Printing
The ePub format is ideal for the Sony Reader, Barnes & Noble Nook, BeBook, Bookeen, COOL-ER, Hanlin eReader, Hanvon and many other ebook readers
Note: For VIP Members Only.
Mobipocket Format is ideal for: Amazon Kindle, Mobile Phones, Blackberry, Palm, IRex, ILiad, Hanlin, BeBook and other mobile devices
Note: For VIP Members Only.
The Text (TXT) format is the simplest format and can be read in any word processor. Plus it is printable.
Standard Members enjoy free HTML views and5 PDF/TXTaccesses per month. For Unlimited Access, please upgrade.
Comments for "Huntingtower"
An Introduction to Braid Scots
By: Robert B. Waltz
A short vocabulary of Braid Scots, the language of the ordinary people of Scotland, as illustrated especially by their folk songs. Includes a brief introduction, a vocabulary of about a thousand words, a selection of folk songs as examples of Scots usage, a brief history of Scottish, and an index.
The Moon Endureth
By: John Buchan
Can you wonder that, when the following noon I saw Santa Chiara sleeping in its green circlet of meadows, my thought was only of a deep draught and a cool chamber? I protest that I am a great lover of natural beauty, of rock and cascade, and all the properties of the poet: but the enthusiasm of Rousseau himself would sink from the stars to earth if he had marched since breakfast in a cloud of dust...