J. J. Bell

“ Mr. Purdie rose, rubbing his knees and coughing. "I'm rale vexed, Macgreegor," he began.
Crunch!
"Ma pipe, ma pipe!"
Alas! troubles never come singly. Macgregor had lost his beloved boat; Mr. Purdie had trod upon and reduced his dear old pipe to atoms. ”

“ Purdie, feeling rather disappointed, for the boat-hirer had assured him that the wreck could easily be recovered.
"It's no' a boat," said Macgregor, smiling. "It's a beast."
"A beast?"
"Ay, granpaw. A aggilator."
"A whit?"
"Aggilator! That's whit the wife in the shope said it wis. Luk at its taes! It can soom, but I'm no' gaun to pit it in the sea."
Mr. Purdie examined the new purchase. "Oh, I see," he said, at last. "It's whit they; ca' a—a—a crocidile, Macgreegor." ”

“ I dinna like dookin', but I like paidlin'."
"I'm thinkin' I'll try the code-ile, Macgreegor."
"It's rale nesty to tak'... But it micht mak' yer hoast better afore the simmer.... Rothesay's a nice place; is 't no'?.... I'm gaun ower to luk at the watter." Macgregor slipped off the seat, and, dragging his steamboat behind him, went over to the railings of the esplanade.
"Ye' re no' to sclim up," cried Mr. Purdie, rising in alarm. "If ye wis fa'in' in there ye wud be droondit."
"There's an awfu' lot o' watter the day," remarked the boy as his grandfather put an arm around him. ”