A flight of white herons rise, and the sand throws yellow reflected light under their wings; a long, dug-out canoe passes down with a load of colour, red earthenware pots forward, a copper-faced man amidship, in white jacket and indian-red kilt.
"From Edinburgh to India & Burmah"
William G. Burn Murdoch
Then they put on the dry kilt they have taken out with them, slipping it on as they came out, modestly and neatly.
"From Edinburgh to India & Burmah"
William G. Burn Murdoch
Simon Peter he say he never heerd o' no sich things ez Orrish gentmans, an' Mis' Sweeney he lif' up he stick, an' Simon Peter he took ter he heels an' Mis' Sweeney arter him, an' Simon Peter 'low ef he hadn't run down in de swamp, Mis' Sweeney would er kilt him, sho'!
"Throckmorton"
Molly Elliot Seawell